


The beloved bastard

by BugMyDust7891



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Cersei as a stepmommy, Doubt, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Ned is a naive little butterfly, R plus L equals J, Secrets, Tyrion suspects, Violence Towards Women, Westeros is a dangerous place, as does Tywin, robert loves lyanna, some characters slightly OCC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8038072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BugMyDust7891/pseuds/BugMyDust7891
Summary: One act of mercy can change a life, but two can change a world.Something that Robert didn't planned when he spared Lyanna's child, and Cersei didn't know when she didn't kill her king's beloved bastard.





	1. An act of mercy

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own GoT. 
> 
> Warning: Presence of characters who are out of character, grammatical mistakes and possible super slow update.

I. Chapter

He was sticky with sweat and mad as he could possibly be. The pulsating need was almost stronger than him, and he knew that. He started a war, to save her, to return her and now he was there. In all the summers of his life that passed, he never expected to stand above Arthur Dayne’s body and listen to Lyanna's scream reaping his soul apart.

As he was rushing with his men upstairs towards the tower with metal armor pressing his chest painfully, nothing mattered.

But when he entered that room, he regretted it. He wished he died not knowing. The blood on the bed would be enough to tell its story, but the stench of death and Lyanna's fear as she was barely holding a child was breaking him. Robert Baretheon just stood frozen, and he wasn't alone.

„Don't, please don't…“ almost silent whimpering of once strong and proud voice he adored, a begging he never thought to hear. He didn't see the woman that was standing on the side, or how his men just turned around and left as they realized the situation. Ours is fury the words said, and they expected for him to raise his sword and do it. For he did it already. The Targaryen children bleed out on the expensive marble of Red Keep from being stabbed too many times and with their skulls crushed. Maybe Lannisters' monster did it but Robert celebrated their death and only Gods would know how much he wanted it.

She was beautiful, even now. As his very soul pained him in realization that she picked Rhaegar and led entire realm into a war over being his wife and bearing his children, only now to hold her babe in fear, to look at him like he's the monster.

„Please, don't. Don't kill him. “A babe was a boy. A king of the Seven Kingdom of Westeros. The boy's very existence was a threat to him and his reign and he wouldn't even have done much to change it. Babies die every day, especially if they are helped with it. „He's my son, Ned's nephew...he's innocent. “

She mentioned Ned. Out of all the people, she could mention, she mentioned a man who was more than his own brothers ever since they were Jon Arryn’s good-children. Robert loved Ned with equal ferocity as he loved Lyanna. And as Lyanna was barely able to hide the baby’s face from him, he could see it. A Stark. That damn incest product maybe sired him, and there was nothing, nothing of his cousin in him.

„Why him? Brandon and your father dead, realm destroyed... I am so disgusting?! “Robert grabbed her and started to shake. Now weak from birth she was barely able to hold her baby with very little strength she had had.

„Stop, stop, you're harming Jon. “She screamed desperately and he let her go like he was burned.

Jon, a strong and good name. Name that would Ned liked, the name he liked. In different world maybe he would be his son, his legacy.

“Please, don’t kill him… Ned will look after him. He’s a baby. ” As she was almost falling on his side, Robert grabbed her and the baby. His fingers were wet and sticky with blood, and some part of him finally realized. She was dying. As her head was on his chest, and her breathing getting slower and heavier she repeated: “Don’t kill him, please. Don’t harm him, promise me... Promise me…”

“I promise,” he would say anything at that moment. She betrayed him, and somehow he felt guilty. Somehow he still wanted to make her happy, ease her pain.

She smiled. And for a short moment, he was happy to make her happy, to have her smiling at him only for her to die.

Like she was still alive and sleeping, Robert gently pushed her on the bloody bed and closed her eyes. Not even fury was his, for that, he was too heartbroken.

The babe noticing commotion started to whimper like it knew his mother passed away but it was too powerless to do anything. Robert couldn’t help himself. With his bloody finger, he followed the lines of his face tickling the baby‘s face.

“I hate you.” Lyanna’s betrayal still burn in his soul and he knew it would never stop, but the rage on the child diminished as he was looking at him. Maybe it was the seeing Stark features on the baby, maybe it was weariness from the war, or seeing her death. Or maybe deep down some part of Robert saw the boy as the son he never will be. And as the child opened his eyes and when Robert Baretheon, the Usurper, the rightful king of Seven Kingdoms saw Lyanna’s eyes looking back at him he knew that while he lost the love of his love he gains a son.

***************************************************************************************************************************************

The wave of disgust was cracking through her skin. Her king, she thought sarcastically, brought a bastard. Like it wasn’t enough all the shame he brought to her with drinking and whoring, some whore’s child lived in a palace like he was a prince like he was her son. Enjoyed the benefits of being King’s brat, and yet out of all bastards he sired that child was the only one Robert cared about.

“I will kill him,” she sipped her wine and stared at the bastard’s wet nurse. The poor girl had had enough brain to be ashamed as she should have been for raising it in her home.

“No, Cersei! You will not. He’s just illegitimate, another of his bastards. He’s amused until he gets bored, and Robert will get bored with a baby.” Jaime made sense, especially if she births soon a child. After her wedding night, she couldn’t bare having Robert on her, but her prince will be born. “You killing a babe would culminate with Kingsguard taking off your head.”

“I wouldn’t get caught.”

She was the most beautiful of them all, proud lioness to his lion. There was no greater perfection than his twin but he would never allow her to discard her life for a bastard. He saw the baby, and like entire Kingdom including Robert’s own brothers, he was at first amused than shocked how Robert was dedicated to it. He had had children almost everywhere he went, and yet that boy was loved in a way never seen before. When he heard the stories how the king approached the Red Keep with a baby boy in his arms, he was laughing almost enjoying. Robert was an embarrassment and a brute, and in some moments Jaime would enjoy nothing more than becoming a Kingslayer again but the way he was with Jon brought a little bit of hope even to him.

“You will not look at the boy; you will not harm the boy. Tell me you understand?”

She said nothing. Her green eyes stared him down, looking with anguish and pride.

She promised him nothing. Said not a word, but until she births a son kingdom needed she wouldn’t be safe, Lannister legacy will not be safe and that alone would be enough, but constant insulting was simply too much. The boy will die. Everybody knew where the boy was held. A beautiful nursery worthy of a prince, not a king’s bastard and yet Cersei knew that her children wouldn’t get an inch of Robert’s attention, but Gods be damned if some other child would. Lions protect each other.

She waited a night. Babies die all the time and many die especially during the night. The Gods give, and the Gods take. That is how it is, especially when somebody helps them.  
Her ladies whispered how beautiful the nursery was and they weren’t wrong. It pained her to see just how much details Robert ensured personally for the bastard’s nursery while he was barely able to keep himself sober. As Cersei silently walked across the room trying to be as quiet as she could possibly be, she was barely breathing. On one of the chairs, a pillow decorated with stags was lying down like a perfect weapon. Like the very destiny pick her to correct one of its mistakes.

In the shiny crib there he was; a threat to her unborn children, a threat to Lannister family. And he was holding a lion and that made her stop and stare.

Some many words were said about the bastard. A son of a whore, a lady, a fisherman’s wife…nobody knew the truth. What was known was that its name was a sign of respect Robert had towards Jon Arryn, one of the rare qualities he had. And King’s Hand Jon Arryn, who once looked at her with ultimate disrespect and commented how dear departed Lyanna was a better choice, was delighted that a Robert named his illegitimate son after him caring not that it was a bastard. He was seen carrying the babe and playing with him when Robert was pretending to rule the Kingdom.

The court laughed behind her back, mocked, talked the stories…but nobody said how beautiful the boy was. Somehow she thought he would be bigger, stronger, more like her kingly husband and somehow he wasn’t. He looked like a prince. In his hands he was firmly holding a lion, a symbol of her house like it was his. Cersei could almost feel a smile on her face, she could almost imagine her father’s facial expression if he ever saw something like that. Surprisingly, it didn’t feel like an insult. She smiled finally when she saw a toy stag was lying almost discarded on the boy’s side.

“Good choice.” Even Jon, the king’s bastard knew a lion was stronger. She felt unknown urge to touch him, to hold him like he was hers. She didn’t even realize she let the pillow fall on the floor as she took a sleeping baby in her arms. He didn’t even wake up, as she put him on her chest. He felt so small and compliant, like a perfect little boy. His arms felt strong, almost like they were built for carrying a sword. Barely awaken he lifted his head from her chest and just looked at her with his sad grey eyes like he knows what will happen to him. The guilt chewed on her, crawling from the depths of her soul long forgotten.

“What are you doing?” Angry whispers shocked her to the bone, but she didn’t let go of the child even so it was pressed more fiercely to her chest. Jaime had kneeled easily ignoring the armor in which he was dressed, most likely he was doing rounds she realized. “I told you not to come close to the boy. Have you lost your mind? Robert will kill you if he finds you.”

“Am I harming the bastard?” Cersei shook her head showing Jaime the sleepy baby. Her twin finally looked at them and only to see a dark haired babe sleeping on her chest like she was his mother. “He’s happy being where he is, and like you, he loves the comfort of my breasts.” The look in her eyes left him dizzy and wanting more than he should.

“Smart boy,” Jaime concluded not being able to turn away from his sister. As many times as he repeated that, somehow it meant nothing to him. He lowered his head and kissed her feeling the oh-so-welcoming taste of her returning back as their only witness slept between them.


	2. Chapter II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own GoT. 
> 
> Warning: Presence of characters who are out of character, grammatical mistakes and possible super slow update.

II. chapter

„The Queen expects a child, “a timid female voice whispered near the south entrance to the garden. „It will be a boy. “

„Isn’t it always? “ Varys sighed sardonically. „Run, little birdie! You have done a good job.” The soft shoes in a gentle step were barely heard, and yet always busy paths with gentle ladies and noblemen were now deserted.

Robert killed Rheager and sat on the Iron Throne, but no matter how many tourneys were held in the name of King Robert First of His Name Baratheon he never held the real power in his hands. And as much as the queen wanted to be a power player she was blocked by not giving the heir and by being seen as nothing more than a pretty thing. A mistake most of them will live to regret. Just as Varys has regretted the way he informed Aerys of the Harrenhall plot, he could sense that there will be even more to regret. A Lannister-Baratheon child might stabilize the realm for a while....but with the real heir to the throne sleeping in the bastard's crib will the very crown shake under the dragon's rage, he couldn’t help but wonder. He cared not about noblemen and noblewomen, they had had a tendency to survive proven by the Targeryen siblings escape. Varys the Spider soothed only to protect the realm, regardless of the cost.

For that his lips were bound in eternal silence of kisses shared between the Lannister twins, of Lysa Arryn pushing her former lover to a position of power, or that young Aegon still lives while knowing that now was the time for peace. They needed to recover, for a lot was lost during the Robert’s Rebellion and not everything in human lives.

“Have you considered using something lighter than lilacs?” The spymaster watched gently as he was approached by the King’s Hand. After losing two wives and an heir apparent and fighting in a war for his good-sons, Jon Arryn has gained a king and its kingdom to babysit. The wicked like the tired ones will never truly find their peace, such was their destiny.

“I find them to have a calming effect, a good thing to have in these troubled times, my Lord.” The King’s Hand smiled. In his hand he held a stack of letters sent from every corner of the kingdom, demanding something; with the thickest of them all was the one from Lady Olenna.

“She’s charging us the grain for almost the double price.”

“During the war the crops were burned, villages pillaged and many farmers died fighting as soldiers for their lord or were killed in the pillaging; there isn’t that much grain as we would want. Lucky for us it is still summer or Tyrells would sit on the Iron Throne,” the truth is always somewhat poisonous. Varys liked the appetite Tyrells had for the power. It was almost amusing how predictable were they in charging the crown the cost they have had from the war. They lost a dynasty they gave their support to, but not their wallets.

“And wolves would chew on their flowery bones.” With almost glow in his eyes, the Hand spoke: “For the winter is coming.”

Maybe he was sacrificing his health and life for Robert, but there was little doubt that Jon Arryn had a sense of humor. Varys liked him as he could like another player; unlike others, Arryn understood the difference in ruling a map and ruling over the people.

“The Dorne whispers about war.”

“If that is a whisper, may we be spared of their yelling?” Oberyn complained so much, to his lovers, of his desires for revenge and war that Varys had had an urge to send him a letter to be quiet. He was brilliant in the war and the art of love, and just like Robert too emotional to think ahead in a lethal game of politics. Both of there were in a death match with life, and it was only a matter of time when the blow will come. The realm could survive a dead Martell prince, but not a Baratheon king. At least not now. “They need to be calmed; perhaps some taxes lowered would be a way to their heart.”

The anger in the Hand’s look was expected. Lower taxes would mean the rebellion of other kingdoms, their lords would perceive that as unjust favoritism and they never needed another reason to rebel. He could only imagine what would Tywin Lannister or Olenna Tyrelle do, even always ignorant North would react by raising their swords.

“Tax Rebellion doesn’t sound so good.”

“Neither did Robert’s Rebellion at first.”

*********************************

She could feel the movement of her child. It was hers and hers alone. Cersei suffered through enough of Robert's unwanted touches while he mumbled for another woman. The ultimate cruelty of being born as a woman was when they promised little girls good men for their husbands while they were really picking for political gain and in most cases, they were cruel buffoons taking their bodies as they pleased not caring if they hurt them. The promise always pained more than the truth.

She would raise her sons to be better, anything just not like Robert. The very moment Robert realized that the queen expected she was left in peace, and Robert’s attention turned to creating even more bastards. Finally having a time for herself, she enjoyed this period. She was positive that she carried a boy, even the Maesters claimed that. Her little prince!

“You’re beautiful.” With her hands on the stomach, shining from within the most beautiful woman of Seven Kingdoms glowed like the non before her.

Her brother, her twin, her other half looked all blonde and heroic like the very prince she expected in her womb. Maybe the bastard was dark like Robert, but her prince would be light and blonde. There was no doubt in her that the Lannister blood would prevail. Jon’s dark hair seemed even darker and curlier next to Jaime who was holding him in his arms, on that image she could almost see two boys, two brothers one blonde one dark-haired playing together.

“Give him to me,” she ordered quietly.

“Robert doesn’t approve, he fears you will kill him. I barely got him, and that was only because I promised to take him to maester for the checkup.”

Not even he could believe that his sister would want to spend time looking after Robert’s bastard when she wanted to kill their own brother when he was born. He still remembered all those times she would look at Tyrion wishing him painful and slow death, knowing that nothing would change that.

“What’s wrong?” Jaime almost smiled, sensing the fear in her voice.

“Nothing, he’s a babe. Babies need to be seen by maesters.” Cersei raised her arms still not giving up on having Jon in her arms.

When the dark-haired baby saw her, he raised his hands towards the queen wanting to be held. Cersei took him in her arms, putting him in her lap. The boy knew her stomach has grown for some unknown reason and yet he gently touched it looked scared like he will injure her.

“Your princely brother is here. It’s your little brother, Jon.” The baby didn’t understand what word brother means, but he could sense the importance in those words. As he started to move in her lap to get more comfortable, Jon had gently lowered his head on her chest and hugged her belly. As she put her hands on his back, Jaime could almost feel the tears in his eyes. Often he thought it was one of her games; deceive everyone into thinking how she accepts the bastard only to kill him. He would feel afterward guilty, and then he would feel foolish for trusting her. Not even he could afford that, and he was a Lannister.

“I need to take him, Cersei!” He didn’t want to, but unlike Cersei, he could very well understand Robert’s fears for he had the same. “I will return him.”

Cersei made no scene, but she didn’t fail to scratch him while giving a bastard a warm smile.

“Oh, Jaime, when you learn of Jon Arryn’s plans for Dorne, let me know.”

Jon Arryn wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t hiding his plans only from Cersei and her little spies. Even their father’s spies couldn’t find anything, and nobody in their right mind planned on asking the Spider. Elia Martell and her children slaughtered, many of Targaryans lords were given a second chance, but in their lands far from the Keep deliberately frozen from any access to the power, and yet the very spymaster of Targaryans became one for Robert. And somehow, everybody considered that a smart move while presuming to know his allegiance. Not to mention he should learn his plans like that was easy.

He knew that even his short walk with Jon would be told to the Spider, and only the Gods would know what web he would knit from it. They were a sight to see. A Kingslayer, a Queen’s brother and a son of the richest lords in the Seven Kingdoms holding carefully in his arms the king’s bastard. He didn’t fail to notice warms looks from some people who snickered at him in the dark or how suddenly even the servants who survived the Targaryen reign to work under Robert’s started to treat him with a respect he deserved.

“You’re good for people’s reputation, little one.” Jon grabbed his face in his arms and smiled showing the lack of teeth. “Soon they might forget I killed the king.”

Yet another lie he told himself. Even the deep thoughts he was into, couldn’t make him hear a comment. Four words.

“That bastard shouldn’t live.”

Like a madman he turned and saw a culprit. A noblewoman showing a contempt and disgust on her face, looking at a child like he was a monster. South has never been kind towards bastards, and for once even he forgot that.

“Threatening a child, even if he is a bastard, is not a part of Seven, or I would remember that from the teachings of my septa.” A surprise was obvious; she didn’t think that she would be heard. Silly mistake elsewhere, yet so deadly in the Red Keep. Everything was heard.

She was young, but so was he when was knighted for a Mad King. She approached him like she had a right. Somebody really needed to teach her a lesson.

“A Kingslayer teaches about right and wrong? The King can’t help himself, but how can you define your Queen?”

“Would your execution for wanting the king’s child death demine your family?” Tyrion would have a better answer, Cersei’s would be more poisonous, but his answer was sharp.  
Somebody of hers took her on the side, dragging her away from them. Perhaps doing the first intelligent thing that day. The boy grew silent and calm sensing the situation. Jaime still furious barely even noticed that.

Being a Kingslayer like a stain remained on him, unforgotten regardless of his actions. For Cersei, it was easy to forget, even easier to use, but he was the one that defiled the words he promised. That nightmare followed him as a part of his every step, every one of his words or actions. Nobody wanted to learn why; they only knew he did stab the king in the back. While it was done to save the King’s Landing from disappearing in the fire of wildfire, Jaime knew, without doubt, he would do it again. In moments like this, he understood his brother perfectly, while for years he would say to him that he understood his feelings when people talked monstrosity about him but he never truly knew until he became the monster in their eyes.

Ned Stark was the first who looked at him like that, and one day even the child in his arms would look him like that.

*********************************

“They owe us a substantial amount of dragons,” gray-haired man stared at the numbers in the books, twitching with his nose with barely kept anger.

“And they will owe us even more.” One of his colleagues commented as he was drinking the tea brought by one of the servants.

“But will be they able to return us the money?” he continued to nag.

One of them got up only to grab the map of the world. He pointed to the King’s Landing, and almost with a full smile on the face started on his idea. The Iron Bank didn’t survive all of those centuries without listening to their wisest.

“Baratheon is spending, and while some of it will be covered by the Lannisters gold he will need us.” Then he pointed to the west, to the Lannister lands. “As some of our measters predict the Lannister mines will go dry in this or in the next decade. Tywin Lannister slaughtered House Tarbeck and House Reyne to show that he will do what is needed.”  
“They underestimated him.” He was slightly interrupted.

“Yes, and that of course. But when the day comes and it will he will see a crown on a poor king and when his daughter births an heir, he will have a legitimate way to control the kingdom only if the king dies. We all know what his choice will be, we have seen it already.”

“In the meantime Covington is raising the heir, while the Targaryen royal siblings will be forced to sell family jewels for their support is too far. One or another Targaryen option will win over and return with the army to the Seven Kingdoms. The Kingdoms will choose a side. North will go Baratheon, Lannister will go Lannister, while Tyrells will go where lady Olenna wants them to go. And Dorne will choose their blood. It will be a mess. Many will die.” There was a certain hunger in his words.

Iron bank representative from Essos smiled with his bushy eyebrows. “We might need to honey Seven Kingdom.”

“Are you suggesting we bankroll everyone?” one of the representatives of fiscally conservative faction asked completely horrified with the very idea of that.

“Not everyone. If we wait long enough, they will all come to us.”

“I agree. The kings and queens will change, but their need for money and Iron bank will never cease. ”

*******************************

He drank another ale in despair.

What was a point if he was unhappy? He was the king that was almost expected. The Lannister bride has proven to be equally poisonous as her father, the court was boring as fuck and the only joy he had to find was war and women. No wonder his Targaryens relatives lost their mind to the madness, surely procreating with their sister-wives helped.

He felt even worse now. He regretted not leaving for the hunt when he saw Cersei screaming in pain; he could have only thought of Lyanna’s deathbed. But now his son died. He was holding Cersei when maesters pulled their son from her, the poor boy didn’t even cry. He had no words, nor actions, or enemy to kill or any way to console his wife. So instead he went to drink and play with the boy. Robert could feel distress in Jon’s wet-nurse. She disapproved of him being drunk and playing with babe, but she could hardly say anything to her king. She could only leave the room, regardless of how much she wanted to take the child from Robert. He could see it in her eyes.

He couldn’t imagine anyone taking Lyanna’s boy from him. He felt a glitch of shame and guilt knowing that Jon had a living family who would love and cherish him far away in the cold North. Robert knew how Ned would be happy. The poor bastard was more loyal to family than anybody, and yet his good-brother was hiding away his own blood.

When Cersei announced proudly she was expecting a child, he felt joy. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted a Baratheon son. He could see in his mind how he will teach him how to fight and how to be more than a prissy prince, and not once he didn’t see Jon there with them; his boys laughing, almost an image of him and Ned when they were young but not anymore. Robert thought he would finally have a family he wanted since his parents vanish in the sea, but now that wasn’t going to happen. He gulped another sip of wine feeling irrecusable rage towards Gods and their fickle desires.

“Say, Papa!” The slobbering mess he was, but the boy didn’t even notice that babies never do. Jon moved his toys left and right crawling all over the place. Robert just wanted to grab him, hold him and keep him forever in a hug. “Papa! Say, papa!” He started to yell at the boy.

“Shouldn’t Stark say papa?”

“To my bastard?” He didn’t raise his head. He didn’t need to; Stannis’ serious expression marred his face, just like his stern temper. Was it too much to ask to be left alone after his son died?

“He looks like him. For the first time, you’re cleaning Ned’s mess.” If he wasn’t drunk he would swear he heard an inch of jealousy, but Stannis never wanted his love only the Storm’s End. “You should ship it to the North.”

Robert jumped on him ignoring the pain in his knees as he got up and push Stannis to the wall.

“I’ll rip your throat apart and throw your body to the dogs if you lay your hands on him.” Stannis tried to remove Robert, push him away but drunken old fool didn’t move. “Our blood floats his veins. My son! My boy!”

He could feel somebody grabbing him and pulling him apart from his brother. Strong hands of Ser Barristan Selmy were wrapped around him and words like “calm down, my king” went almost unnoticed. Stannis was shocked feeling the pain in his body, moving from the wall still staring at his brother’s fury.

Ser Barristan moved strongly to the left while wrestling with Robert so that the king would be turned away from Stannis and towards the babe who started to look as he was about to cry. His gray eyes filled with tears and they could see him choking, whimpering and failing.

“You are upsetting the boy, your grace. Look at him, this fight is scaring him.”

Still heavily breathing and upset Robert ripped himself from the Kingsguard and grabbed Jon from the floor. The boy tucked himself into his arms, silently crying and allowing Robert to shush him. Stannis could feel the cold sweat on his forehead.

Robert never cared about his bastards, he never cared about anyone who wasn’t named Stark or even Jon Arryn and yet the Demon of the Trident was shushing a baby like some wet-nurse. He could feel disdain for his brother’s behavior. The boy had to be Robert’s son, for not even Ned’s son would get such affection usually reserved for war, wine and Lyanna Stark. As he looked more into the child, he could sense somewhat easing of distrust, there were weak traces of their Targaryen grandmother hidden on the child’s face under dark hair and gray Stark-like eyes.

“Do you understand? Nobody touches my boy.”

“It is my duty to ensure that the boy is yours, your behavior dictates the need for that. He does look like a Stark’s child, although Ned would never leave a child with you.” The more he spoke, the more Stannis felt like a fool. Ned Stark was single-handedly the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms. Unlike his good-brother, Ned would never visit anyone who wasn’t his wife, nor would he do anything which would disgrace his honor. “It’s surprising anyone would.”

“They spoke you treat him like he’s a prince.” Stannis rubbed his chest easing the pain from Robert, as he was looking around the room. The handmade tapestries covered the wall depicting the history of Westeros, beautifully decorated woodwork and the crib was….he almost choked on his saliva…was Targaryen. From which forgotten room the crib came he couldn’t assume. Robert was raging and calling for the heads of Rheagar’s siblings only to put his bastard in a crib meant for a Targaryen prince, and it wasn’t meant as an insult to their distant relatives. “The Westeros need a king, and you are treating a bastard-born child of yours like he is a king to be.”

“In another world, he would be,” he spat joyfully like only he knew a joke.

“What are your plans?” Stannis insisted ignoring Robert’s eyes rolling at him.

“Have non. Might hold a tourney soon.” He smiled wickedly like he knew it would annoy his younger brother. “Win in a melee, show everyone I can do even stuck in here and fuck all night long.”

“You are a king. Lead the kingdom. Not your cock.”

“I am still your king and you are still the one who allowed those dragon spawns to run away, so do not tell me about leading since you failed in your duty.”

“Failing suggest there was an option of success. They were saved before I could sail. You took Storm’s End from me, wasn’t I punished enough?”

“Dragonstone goes to the king’s heir, and since my son never lived to cry, you are still my heir.”

Stannis could recognize a punishment for what it was. Their weak and useless brother who himself was a child gained a rich Storm’s End, while he gained a ruin. That wasn’t too hard to read for what it was.

“Will Jon Arryn go to Dorne or you care not about possible war?”

Robert smiled. He didn’t like Stannis nor did he love him, but Stannis understood duty more than perhaps one person in the entire kingdom.

Robert turned his back to him. Stannis couldn’t help but wonder how Arryn runs the Kingdom when Robert is like that; then again Robert was always like that. Perhaps it was better for the kingdom, having less of Robert interfering.

****************************************

She felt empty. The gaping hole in her chest felt like it would never cease to stop pulsating pain through her very soul. She loved her child in a way she never loved anyone, and yet she wasn’t enough. The pain was wrong, she knew that but maester didn’t trust her and now her son was dead. Robert surprised her. When the pain grew to be too strong for her to suffer through and the blood started to drip down her legs, he punched measters not caring about anything else but her and their child. She needed help and he ensured one for her and for that she was grateful.

In the hell of birth, of her insides being ripped apart her kingly husband was holding and supported her. She cared not about his drunken breath; she could concentrate on her body telling her to push. Even before she pushed him out of her body Cersei knew, and her tears spoke the tragedy she was unable to say. Her prince was dead.

She bled so much she thought it was the end; she would die like her mother ripped apart. The shame covered her body like a fever for not giving the heir, for failing her duty as a Lannister. “Hear me roar” became “hear me weep”, for nor mother should bury her child.

Cersei could hear Jon crying and she couldn’t take it. The hate returned so strong she could barely breathe. How, just how a bastard could live, but not her son who deserved it more?

“Make him shut up. Shut up!”

Robert didn’t understand her thinking Gods knew what, but her ladies did. Jaime did, and just like that, the glow vanished from his eyes. He couldn’t handle her suffering, just like she couldn't put up with an insult when her babe wasn’t breathing.

The night was heavy on her, and she could easily hear the steps in the hallway. She barely got up wanting to rip someone’s head for bothering her, but they weren’t there for her. She didn’t want to return to bed. She made the servants change the sheets so many times, however, she couldn’t forget the smell of blood or forget her son’s face. Barely walking she went to the balcony. They showed cute babies, but they never said what happened to a woman’s body after birth, and the changes it goes through. She welcomed them when she was having a child, but now they were a reminder of the pain she had to endure.

The child cried in the distance. Cersei flinched like somebody slapped her. She knew too well that cry.

“Why won’t you just shut up?” Poison grew stronger in her every day. Pain has never been easy, but neither was Cersei.

He said nothing, but Tywin couldn’t hide his disappointment. That made her pain even stronger.

She leaned on the balcony and stared into the night. Not even sweet words and gentle looks from Jaime didn’t help; they got her even angrier feeling even more empty. The stench of King’s Landing was consisted, just as were the fires all across the royal city as the nightlife was happening somewhere below. The cursed moon glow like it did always, calming her down.

She looked down to royal garden near the lake towards incompetent soldiers who claimed their protection and in the mist of green and stone, the moon shined on child’s face. Jon’s face.

After her baby died, she didn’t see him or wanted that, but seeing him felt like an old urge. She wanted him in her arms. Perhaps it took her longer than it would usually, but she realized the absurdity of a situation. Not even the idiot of Jon’s wet nurse would take him to the garden during the night, but there were enough people who could use even a king’s bastard to gain power. Hot flashed with fear and barely walking, she put on fast her nightdress and run towards to the small lake in the garden where she saw them feeling destructive pain in her body. Her heart beat as fast as it could, as she was grabbed greedily for air.

After a minute or two she encountered a guard in the northern hallway looking bored. The fire showed barely shaven face and the incompetence was shining from his eyes. She, the queen was in pain saving a child when he dared do nothing. At least one person tonight will lose their head.

“You!” The fear passed on his face.

“Come with me. Now!”

Perhaps the kidnapper needed to be slow not to raise the alarm, but still recovering Cersei and the soldier got very close very quickly. It was her home, and nobody will play with her. The queen will show them. And for that, she needed more witness than one man-child in armor and with sword.

“Get more men!”

“But, your grace, they might be dangerous….”

“Stop thinking! It doesn’t suit you. Get them, now!”

The soldier left running and she remained alone with a hooded stranger who was holding Robert’s bastard. For a kidnapping victim, Jon remained calm and his melancholic face showed somewhat acceptance of the situation, but he didn’t fail to drool on his kidnapper. It made her smile for a second.

“What are you doing with the child?” She sounded calm and reasonable, but the Gods knew she wasn’t. Somebody needed to pay with their life. Her child was dead, her life was in shambles and the bastard was about to die. “Answer to your queen.”

“But” surprised familiar voice responded. “You wanted this.”

That wretched, manipulative whore! The sweet smile was maybe enough to fool men, and her brown golden hair shiny enough to get Robert in her bed, but that lady-like snake from Storm’s End wanted to take her head off and take her crown. Everybody would believe the story she created that Cersei in the madness of her loss would kill the royal bastard out of jealousy and nobody would stop or judge a king for killing his queen after committing such atrocity. Not even her father would do anything.

“Killing an innocent child? No, my dear! That’s all you.” A small part wanted him dead, naturally. But you never know who is listening, especially when you are alone. “I know the pain of losing a child, while you are still a child on your own not knowing such a pain. I pray that you never do.”

She would rather if lady Ania enjoyed the welcome of royal dungeons before they execute her. If there was a difference between nobility and common people, Cersei was now even more convinced that there was a difference between lower noble families and family like Lannister, and Ania proved her point with this mess.

“Me? Never. I found the poor child on the ground and save him.”

“Quit lying. Nobody is listening.” A silly child actually believed her.

“The bastard’s body won’t start to rot when they kill you for his death.” The wicked smile froze on her face, with shock, making her sick as she stared with almost childish surprise how Ania had thrown Jon into the cold lake. She didn’t even think. Reacting felt as natural as did breathing. The moon was lighting so strong she could see where the child was thrown. She jumped more than she ever did, almost tossing herself into the lake and pulling the child from the water. He was coughing and screaming, and as she was pulling on her chest she felt relief. Still sitting in the cold water, she could hear nothing except her heart and Jon’s screams.

“Your brother died in me. I couldn’t save him, but if I haven’t taken your life neither will that anybody else.”

They found them still in the lake, Cersei wet to her skin and the king’s bastard in her arms whimpering almost like a prayer to Gods. They were carrying light with them and cold swords, while Robert and Stannis still dressed in their nightgowns looking almost like they didn’t know how to react.

“What happened here?” Robert roared.

“He’s mine, do you understand that?” She finally stopped looking at the child and looked at Robert like never before. “I said nothing when you mocked the sanctity of our vows in front of the Gods, more than that I accepted the poor child. But now I saved his life, he’s mine and he owes me a debt. Do you understand that?”

“What happened here?” Stannis repeated while he ripped a cloak from one of the Baratheon guards and putting it on Cersei.

“I want lady Ania dead. Nobody will use my child’s death.” That was a promise. There was no person who didn’t feel a shiver on their skin from those words.

With no words like they were not enough, Jaime grabbed her arms and pulled her up and when Robert tried to take the child from her arms she simply turned around showing him her back.

“Take us to my room. We need to get warm and dry.”

And just like that, the golden queen wet to skin holding the king’s bastard covered only with a cloak walked away being held by her brother.

“What happened here?” Stannis questioned one of the soldiers. “Where are you going, Robert? We need an answer for tonight.” His king just waved his hand and started marching towards the queen's chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit that I didn’t expect to finish this chapter this year, and that says enough about how little time I have. And for those who will scream “That is not Cersei!” it’s ok. She will become the woman we know. There is a reason why this is alternative universe, and how some things simply need to be different. Let’s not forget the title is "The Beloved Bastard", not "Loved by Robert, Hated by Cersei". Some elements of Jon being raised are already hinted and he will not be a jolly grown up. If being raised with lady Catelyn was difficult, just imagine growing up at King’s Landing. 
> 
> I need to thank anyone who commented, subscribe and gave kudos. You inspire me more than it’s possible, and thanks to that overwhelming support I could write this. 
> 
> For this story I tried to get as much of research as it was possible, but mistakes are possible.


	3. Chapter III.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One act of mercy can change a life, but two can change a world.
> 
> Something that Robert didn't planned when he spared Lyanna's child, and Cersei didn't know when she didn't kill her king's beloved bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own GoT.
> 
> Warning: Presence of characters who are out of character, grammatical mistakes and possible super slow update.

III. Chapter

He remembered. The floor of Red Keep beneath his feet, the smell of burned flesh and he could still hear his mother’s sweet voice when he closed his eyes, but he could also remember his father’s joyful screams and how scared he was while looking at the king’s slim figure. When they left the King’s Landing he was happy, then he was too young to notice the worry on Ser Willem Darry’s face or the way his mother was breathing easier like a burden was taken from her chest.

And for a while he was happy. Finally, the dragons would be complete with the new child his mother was carrying in her womb. His child-like brain couldn’t see what grown-ups on Dragonstone did, that the dragons were about to be betrayed. His beloved brother murdered by their cousin, a father killed by that foul Kingslayer Lannister whose family dared to bloody up the Red Keep with the blood of innocent Targaryen children and they all dared to took what was his. His kingdom. His throne.

And then his mother died. She named her little girl, and as Rhaella was dying Viserys realized something. She didn’t love him anymore otherwise she would stay and for the first time in his life he felt the real rage.

“Be quiet, my prince.” Ser Darry was holding him in his arms, trying to console the child and quit him. He could see on the men’s faces. They will betray them; sell the children and the rest of the loyalists to the Usurper. One of his men heard of the plot in the night from once loyal men and told him immediately. He knew that the time was the essence. They had to escape the Seven Kingdoms and sail towards the free cities and wait for the right moment for the dragons to return.

“Calm the dragon in you”, old knight remembered the sweet words queen would speak to calm the babe in her during the difficult moments of pregnancy, and in some moment of crazy hope he told them to young prince. “He doesn’t need to be awake right now. Don’t wake him now; there will be a time for that.”

Viserys still red in his face with tears clouding his judgment felt those words, cutting into his brain and soul. He was a dragon, and nobody should wake the dragon in him.

Darry had perished from age or sickness, enough time passed by for him to forget, and soon they were tossed on the street. His silver-haired little sister born to be his queen looked like a little beggar with drapes on her body, and a king like him without a kingdom meant nothing. Hot sand on the street burned his feet, as his little sister’s weight burned his back. The city was busy with life, and no one even looked at them. They could perish and nobody would even care. Even so, that would bring joy to Usurper and his mangy dogs that turn on his family. He knew what he had to do.

That was the lowest day in his life. Holding Daenerys’ hand as he handed his mother's crown to an almost cackling stinky trader for almost nothing of its real worth, and then he pushed a bag with gold in the pocket knowing that nobody would suspect that dirty beggars would be carrying a fortune like that. He couldn’t breathe how angry he was, and there was nothing more he wanted than punish his sister. If she was born when their brother was still a child, the war wouldn’t have happened and they would have everything. He would have everything. He couldn’t help himself but to whisper how he’ll get his revenge and how usurpers and traitors will pay but he still didn’t stop looking at his sister.

And that was the moment when the coin tossed by the Gods fell on the side of madness.

* * *

The cold was warming up his bones, as did the beer in his cup. They barely put up with Targaryens who couldn’t keep up with them, and he could sense that reign of Baratheons will give them what was theirs.

His father made a mistake by turning from the old way, but he wasn’t a fool to repeat Quellon’s mistakes. The Ironborn were not meant to green the land, to smirch their hands with dirt to pick produce, no they were meant to salt their skin on the wind, listen to the heartbeat of the storm from the decks of their ship and take everything. Now, that was their way.

His men were more hungry than fed, more mad than calm and to each of them the sea was their lord beside him. And they all were including his brothers wanted their independence from the Iron Throne.

„Targaryens are dead and perished. And drunken fool on the throne suits us, for …“he rose to stand in front the recognizing the hunger on his men's faces. „…we will burn and take what is ours. “

„We will no longer pay the taxes for Robert to get fat. No dragons mean our independence. “

His brothers looked almost famished in their desire for war and almost joyful as he ever saw them. Euron drank slowly never stop staring at him. He put down his mug and started hitting it on the table with the rest of captains joining him. „We need ships!“

„Aye,“ the call was answered.

„We need men!“ There was no inch of weakness typical of mainland men in using cheap words, no sweet customs nor charity.

„Aye!“ Never has the solar of Balon Greyjoy been more vibrant. Some of them have waited for this their entire lives.

„Cut every tree! Every branch that has grown. “He addressed his youngest brother who almost puffed himself out from proudness. „Build me the biggest fleet ever to sail the sea. Our ships' scorpions and spitfire will make widows out of women from the south to the north.“

Balon's heir Rodik with his bloody eyes was swapped in the moment screaming his father' name and calling for Westeros to bow to the ironborn. Across the table Maron mocked Rodik and ability to captain himself causing the drunken to grab his brother's neck and slowly choke him. Balon didn't even react. He lost himself in the image of Westeros burning once again.

* * *

He was running. It wasn’t difficult to see events as they were. Robert was killing them; them who stood by him through every battle, through the pain of every fallen friend only to be betrayed like it was just. Five of them knew the truth and there was lying the danger for Robert. The dragonspawn lived, dressed in a silk calmed every night with sweet words from the queen and somehow they were slaughtered one at the time.

He didn’t notice at first. Alecor died in a duel with his wife’s alleged lover. Almost expected, some might say. So they didn’t question it. They drank talking long into the night about Alecor and took some wenches to their beds to ease the pain, and each went home.

Tyron met the Gods in the boat accident. He drowned even though he learned how to swim in the treacherous waters of Casterly Rock.

He cried and continued to live. He didn’t even think that somebody is doing that deliberately. Upon his return, he was attacked, but they let him live long enough to plant the scene for his death, and as he sat down on the cold ground with his hands and legs tied he learned to truth. The king maybe ordered their deaths, but it was Spider’s soft hands that played the reaper for them. 

His wanna-be-killers have had a misfortune running at local thieves, and in the heat of the battle, he tossed himself into the first ditch and ran as fast as he could.

They laughed when they saw Robert loving the boy so fiercely.

“Something must be in the Stark blood,” Loras would mock reminding them of Robert’s infatuation with boy’s Lady Mother and love towards boy’s Lord Uncle. “Starks rule the North for 8 thousand years. They were nobles before any of the great houses of today even existed. Must be something funny in those God-trees of theirs to keep them in power for so long.”

Hunted by Spider’s little birds in Dorne, he jumped on the first ship into the nowhere knowing where he could seek revenge.

There was only one person in the whole world who hated Robert Baratheon equally as Robert Baratheon hated Rheager Targaryen, and that wasn’t a small task to do.

“You are surrounded.”

He never expected in his lifetime to see the legendary Golden Company. Hiding in the open they were maybe a few, but there were more.

“I am on a search for a member of yours. Jon Connington is his name.” He pointed at his head. “Red-haired like me, he is.”

“And what one of Baratheon lords wants from him?”

“Well, not that much since I am running from my King.” He wasn’t the most honorable or the smartest, but he wasn’t going to die before getting his revenge. “I have information Connington would like.”

They came from behind as it was expected. A hit on the head, and he was no longer in the world of consciousness. Water woke him up. Tossing water never fails, but the feeling of being a wet dog remained. They tied him to the chair, like there was a real threat from him to escape. He barely escaped the Seven Kingdoms hunted by highly motivated individuals. A highly trained army of 10 thousand would be an impossible task.

“Talk!”

With perhaps deeper wrinkles on his face and more grey in his hair, Connington was pretty much looking like he did during the Mad King’s reign. He didn’t know who were the other men in the tent with them, but with the Golden Company Targaryen meant something. For many years they gave the support to their bastard relatives, but company like that hardly ever forgets its root and Targaryens were at the heart of all especially now when they no longer sat on the throne.

“Rheager’s son lives.” Looking at him equally fierce and mad, Connington didn’t even blink. Some of the men talked, commented, some expressed joy while others accused him of lies, but Connington continued to pierce him with his stare.

“The Mountain crashed his skull on the Red Keep’s floor.” His voice was almost dangling from sad and to dangerous once again. “We’ll send your head to Robert to teach him that even in the far desert the news of slaughter Lannisters committed on the children and the princess was heard.”

“I never said Aegon. I was talking about lady Lyanna’s boy.”

Somebody pulled his hair, grabbing steadily his head as he put the ice cold steel on his neck. Through fear and pain, he could see a large scar pressed into a man’s nose like a mark covering even his right cheek.

“If I find out you’re lying, there is nothing that Robert can do to you that I won’t do more painfully”, there was something in him that screamed the Northman. Perhaps was the brutal honesty or lines of the rigid face seen somehow only on the face of Northmen.

“I was there, I swear,” he was promising, hoping that they will believe him. “I saw her die.”

His neck was in pain, almost stuck as the knife cut him slightly leaving only a smear of blood and itching pain.

“We have heard where Arthur Dayne and the rest of the Kingsguards were guarding lady Lyanna, so Robert took of us to the Tower of Joy in the Dorne almost under the darkness of the night and there she was.” He felt like he was speaking only to the Northman. Maybe the South mocked the simplicity and harshness of North, but no house, no family, could count on a loyalty such as did the Starks. “Dying from birth fever, we didn’t lay a hand on her.” His high pitched voice was filled with promise.

Connington grew somehow even more serious.

“She had birthed a boy. Robert wanted him dead for being a dragonspawn, but she begged him.” His voice grew stronger with every word. “Begged him, cried, invoking everything she could including her brother until she made him promise her not to kill Rheager’s son, to hand him over to Ned Stark so he could raise him but that didn’t happened.”

And then he started to talk to himself mostly. In years of knowing Robert, he never expected a boy to live. They could easily see him crashing the boy’s skull like it happened to his brother or leaving him to die in the desert, but he just grabbed the boy and kept on holding him almost until they arrived in the Red Keep.

“He didn’t kill him. Robert couldn’t stop touching the boy’s face and saying how much he hates him, but he treated him like it was his child. A dragonspawn!” Judging by the reaction in the tent, insulting the Targaryens wasn’t a good choice. “He declared him his bastard; gave him a nursery and showered him with fortune.”

“Why would we trust anything coming from your mouth? You are betraying your king. Again.” He could understand the caution, but nobody would be willing to lie like that in a company used to violence. They could put all the rings they wanted and cover themselves in the silk, but they were bloodthirsty killers. Unleashed force like that would be feared even by very Robert, and he never wanted more than that.

“He betrayed me first.”

Swiftly and without warning the Northman cut his neck. As the blood burst and was still bloodying the shirt of now dead Baratheon lord, the Northman slightly pushed the chair with the body causing it to fall. With his eyes opened and blood still dripping, his words were still ringing in the room.

“I’m leaving for the Red Keep. If there is an inch of truth that Lyanna’s baby lives, he will have my sword.”

“You will be killed, Rodrick, for an infant.” Blackheart was sound, but he knew there was no purpose. Rodrick has chosen the exile, but his loyalty to North was without better word very Northern-like.

“Connington, at least you can...” Blackheart turned and realize that Connington left the tent.

Connington was positive nobody followed him, but just to be sure he took a few twists and turns around the city. He couldn’t stop feeling the anguish, as the sickness rose from his stomach.

Rheagar got his desire’s worth. A third dragon was born; now kept like a souvenir in the Red Keep. He could hear Baratheon laughing. Now he’ll wash the ears with lies of Targeryen monstrosity to Rheager’s very son. All because Lyanna Stark decided to seduce the prince to escape the marriage she didn’t want. All because of her, the dynasty has fallen. The only good thing she did was to convince somehow the traitor to keep the boy alive.

“Calm down, boy.” He was strict. While he enjoyed going through Aegon’s hair reminding him of the silver prince, he knew he couldn’t coddle the boy. That is a woman’s duty. A king had no right to be gentle or weak. “I have news for you.”

He took him in his arms, ignoring the boy’s cries of being uncomfortable.

“You have a brother in Westeros. He’s unworthy woman’s child, but your father’s blood goes through his veins.” Brother. That wasn’t a word boy knew, Connington only raged about the dead sister Aegon will never meet. “He’ll maybe grow up in the Red Keep, but the Iron throne is yours.”

* * *

“I missed you, dear Petyr!” She thought she sounded lovely, but to Baelish she could only represent the weak and childish copy of the woman he truly loved.

Lysa would weep in his arms as he tried to convince himself how her hair was somewhat shiny as Cat's was, how the feeling was the same but that much lies, not even he could say. “As did I you, my lovely. The days feel so long without you.”

“Even with all those whores?” Poison in her words was quick, but he never feared for her to turn from him. She knew how to love him and how to resent her sister almost all her life. In a way, that was everything she could ever feel and that was how the world existed. For her, others were guilty. Never her, and even less him.

“There are not you, my dear”, he needed information about lord Arryn. “Your Lord husband maybe approves of our warm friendship, but not even I can take advantage so much before his very eyes. His trip to Dorne was a blessing from the very Gods, like they wanted for us to see each other.”

Lysa almost glowed. He doubted that Lysa’s and Cat’s former septa would see that as an approval of Gods, but Lysa never needed a reason to accept his words. Rarely he would feel disgust for using her, but he understood how the world was being played. He was seen lower for the mere misfortune of his birth, while hotheaded and spoiled Brandon Stark was adored by all for the lucky circumstance of being born as the heir of the great House. He hated him with every heartbeat. Almost unwillingly Baelish started to hold tighter Lysa than he should have leaving marks on her skin.

“Petyr!” She left his embrace looking at him defiantly, for the first time after a long time with iron and straight in her voice. “I do not enjoy pain.”

“Forgive me, my love” his voice was tender and filled with sweetness he knew Lysa approved. She calmed down and put her head on his chest raising it so she could look at him when she wanted. “My desires for you are strong.” He smiled almost seeing in features of her face her very sister.

“I’m not used to having you around me. This trip to Dorne was a welcoming gift…”

She wanted to show him that she knew. Like a child who knew a secret, she couldn’t help but tell it to others to impress.

“Those filthy Martells are making a fuss.” She was almost shocked. “Calling for war over a dead woman? Like that is going to help her and her dragonspawns.”

She looked at him again. “Our children would be perfect.” She signed not hiding a yearning for that possible future. “Strong and beautiful. We would have a son if…” she became weary with eyes filling with tears.

When she told him, he almost felt the dread. There was only one woman worthy to give him children, and she was dragged away to a cold North to marry a spare that survived.

“I know, my love. Our pain is similar to what Martells feel; they as well have lost someone they cared about deeply. Your husband is doing an honorable duty for the Kingdom, trying to ease the tensions.”

Lysa found herself nodding to Petyr’s words. Even as a small child, he was smart beyond measurement. He was just unlucky being born in a noble family which didn’t have the recognition of time, unlike hers.

“I hear him talking with the King in our Tower about the deal the Dorne. With some benefits and forgiveness for being on the wrong side…” Baelish had to roll his eyes. Only Robert would be so generous to forgive Dorne, after killing members of their royal family. Dorne would accept it and smile, only to hide poisonous blade and wait for the perfect moment to plunge it into Robert’s heart. “…lord Renly will be fostered there after his two and ten name day passes.”

“Robert would rather send Stannis, then Renly. That was a brilliant move from your Lord husband.”

“Too old, too smelly unlike Ned Stark, he at least has all of his teeth. With young husband, it is no problem for her to have a child.” Her voice was getting screwy, filled with tones of already familiar jealousy. Neither of them handled well the news of Cat’s pregnancy and even more the stories about strong heir, a delight of house Stark and how joyful is the young couple.

“But then I would be far from you, my dear.”

* * *

That was the infamous baby. So beautiful and loveable that it melted the ice in his sister’ chest who surprisingly started to love the bastard, the first person that wasn't Jaime or her own reflection. 

He could peek through the grids, and in midst of cloth and silk in a royal crib, there was one serious baby. The curly black hair had a shiny glow that will cause jealousy with most ladies of the court when the boy grows; long lashes and grey eyes....long limbs that will one day soon be longer than his. Feeling slightly humorous, he just peeked again. 

"Both sons of nobles, one a dwarf and one a bastard. Aren't we lucky?“ he whispered conspiringly to the baby.

Perhaps out of survival, he could sense the arrival of those who might threaten him. A good hearing also helped. 

"Looking to see how a baby should look?"

"My dear sister, I came to see is the boy really alive." He pushed his hand through the grids hoping to touch to boy to calm him down. Babies and children, now that was humanity he would like. "They sing how you showed mercy towards a child that isn't yours, now that was something which even great Tywin had to witness. Since I enjoy a good play, I came along."

She paled. Almost instantly her eyes searched for the reflecting surface and her hands went to her hair to fix flaws existing only in her head. He was maybe hated, but she just like him wanted approval that will never come and the only one who might even get it...wasn't that much interested in it.

The realm maybe adored the story that Cersei helped create about beloved queen so kind that she accepted Robert's bastard, a tale so warm to small folk created almost a saga about daughter's kindness when her own father ordered the brutal slaughter of babies barely some time ago.

"Stop touching him. He might become a dwarf."

Her words had a bite regardless of the occasion, but fear of being the biggest disappointment even bigger than him will never leave her. He enjoyed in this, in her making a mistake. He wasn’t his father to wish for a child’s death, but nobody could understand how could she the proudest of them all allow Robert to bring the child to the King’s Landing in her very home. Not even he could see what she had from it.

“Like you or father?” He laughed while still looking at cribs content. ”Jaime is the prettiest dwarf of them all.”

“Enough you two with nonsense.” Their father wasn’t alone. Uncle Kevan was standing behind him looking serious, but almost bored. That wasn’t the first time he saw something like that. “We need to talk, Cersei.”

“Gods be good! It seems somebody is in trouble.”

“Leave, Tyrion!” Cersei wanted to slap off the smile on her brother’s face. She knew he deliberately walked slower to heighten the situation, even more, never missing an opportunity to be ever so dramatic. “Now!”

“Father, I…”

He raised his hand signaling her to be quiet. Like his son before him, he peeked at the crib watching seriously almost like he is remembering everything about the baby.

“I didn’t brought up my children to be weak. To be mellowed down at a presence of a baby, especially not the one that’s a danger to my future grandchildren.” Disappointment was bursting through his sardonic smile. “Losing a child is no excuse. If you desire to use that lie for an excuse, remember that you and your brother were spotted with Robert’s mistake before you failed me by losing the heir. Explain to me what’s your goal, since your uncle and I can’t see it. ”

“I don’t have a child yet and I need time.” She took Jon into her hands. “He’s giving me needed time to ensure a Lannister sits one day on the throne.”

“Find Robert a whore you can control. It’s easier.”

“He has whores and court ladies throwing at him, and he enjoys their company. But somehow he loves this child particularly, out of all of his bastards.” The one thing that kept her occupied and ease the pain of losing a child expect ever loyal Jaime was that child. For that he will get her protection. “And he feared for a while I would kill him, and I admit that was my goal but then I realized that it would be better to use this child and give myself more time to birth the royal heirs. After that happens, the child will be fostered somewhere and permanently taken care off.”

He nodded, still unconvinced. If that was the truth, then perhaps there was more of him in his daughter than he hoped.

Tywin wasn’t blind. Robert was weak, making bastards everywhere and one day he will make a bastard to a wrong lady with right noble blood almost ensuring another war if there are not royal children carrying his blood. Losing that child wasn’t something that suited his goals, but if time was needed bastard would surely give some to his daughter. Afterwards, as he has proven to the world children have a tendency to die faced with his men.

“Don’t be a fool. You are not the child’s mother. If not stopped, that bastard will raise and kill your children. What else does a bastard want?” There were stories that a babe was Stark’s, no wonder with the boy’s own appearance looking like he could be the son of Warden of the North, but he knew how Targaryens look like and that child had their blood.

“Give him to me.” Tywin took a child from Cersei and looked at him like he never saw a babe.

“Do you know who the bastard’s mother is?” She shook her head. Clearly, if Robert cared he would bring her as well, but Cersei would definitely kill her. A bastard was enough for her taste.

“Careless of you.”

“If she was important or alive, she would be here and she isn’t.”

Tywin was breathing through his nose almost like a mad bull. He was wrong, even to think for a moment that there is more of his character in his daughter. He raised her to be better.

“Since obviously, you are not capable, I’ll learn.”

First time in her life, she wanted him to leave. She knew what she was doing, and his blaming her for losing a child she wanted even more than him pained her very soul. Cersei didn’t expect compassion, but somehow she hoped not to hear how the death of her baby was her fault. He looked at the baby like inspecting it, poking it causing a baby to laugh.

“Your uncle will arrive here with the family to ensure mistakes like this do not repeat.” He said and handed her the baby still looking at it with suspicious glace in his eyes. “I’m waiting for you outside.”

She lowered Jon into the crib, covering him in blankets.

“I saved your life, again. Your debt to me is growing.” She kissed him on his forehead. “I’ll be back soon, little one.” 

* * *

She could never imagine that she would be this happy. Brandon’s death was heartbreaking, but as a Tully, she did her duty and married his brother. Ned was serious and honorable; a true lord to the men and women of North who respected him, and showered her with the equal respect.

He gave a son, a perfect heir who perhaps looked more like her than him, but was fiercely loved by his father. Ned never missed an opportunity to play, to smile to the little boy. He was kind to her as well, never missing an opportunity to listen to her opinions or show her the passion when she wanted him in her chambers.

Catelyn Tully Stark lived a life she always dreamed of. Her slightly rounded belly showed another child, a beautiful addition to the family she created with Ned.

It took her time and she knew she needed even more to adjust to the North. The servants still looked at her like she was a southerner but they smiled and accepted her boy in a ways she could only dream. In the midst of all everyday problems she was lucky one, unlike her sister whose babies died even before being born. When the ravens came with unhappy news, the only thing she could do was hold on even tighter to her baby boy and weep for the nephews and nieces that will never be.

“My lady, there was a raven for you from the King’s Landing with a message.”

She smiled, feeling cold on her face. Perhaps it was joyful news from Lysa. Catelyn prayed every day to a Mother to bless her sister’s womb with a child. Northern folk, maybe looked at her funny when she went to pray but they said nothing since she was smart not to say anything about their beliefs no matter how wrong she felt they were.

She took the message from the boy and walked away towards her chamber. In making a detour she took the opportunity to look at her lord husband as he talked to the northern lords and to give a kiss to her little boy before she took him to her chambers to play with him still holding a message in her hands.

Later she would regret taking her boy, but she couldn’t assume in her wildest nightmares the venom which will in years to come poison her mind.

_Ask your husband about his bastard in the King’s Landing._

Short but it hit her where it hurt her the most. For a moment her faith was shaken, but in other one she hated herself for believing such an obvious lie. Ned showed no indecency towards her and her honor. Stories about lord of Winterfell visiting brothel would come to her, but they never did. He simply wouldn’t have time, for unlike other men he shared only her bed.

“Ma, mama...” her boy screamed from the floor trying to move and stuck in the carpet. Catelyn took him from the floor, pressed his little face to her chest feeling tears burning her eyes.

“It cannot be truth.” She repeated to herself. People knew how happy she was, and they wanted to punish her. She didn’t want to ask him. What if he tells her the truth that he took another woman in his bed?

There were stories about Ashara Dayne, a beauty that could charm a room. Ned himself, Brandon told her, was too shy to ask her for a dance so he asked her for his little brother. Then, her heart warmed how kind Brandon was but now that wasn’t something she aimed to remember. What if…there was a child carrying Stark blood, a danger to her true born babies…what will she do to protect them? Bastards always wanted only one thing to replace their true born siblings from their rights and their lives.

She simply had to know. Later she would barely know to whom she handed her little boy and how she approached her lord husband. There had to be a smile on her face, at least a frozen one.

“My lord…” she felt silly now when he was in front of her all, serious and worried. Behind him the noblemen of North were drinking, eating and enjoying a good life as politely as they could in front of their lord and his lady wife. Some like lord Manderly would stare trying to eavesdrop, but the distance was too great even for him.

“I will ask you only once and never again, so I do implore you to show me honesty as I have shown you during our marriage…” Catelyn pressed the message in his hands murmuring barely heard plea“…tell me it’s a lie."

Under dark eyebrows grey eyes widen as he read and re-read the note.

“My lady, I do not know what are the intentions of the author but with my honor, I give you my word that I do not have a bastard child. I have only shared a bed with you, my lady.” 

Somehow cold stopped bothering her, somehow everything was right at the moment. They could only hold hands, allowing for the moment of silence to pass. The lords were too loud and too distracting, and while she accepted the cold it didn’t stop her from shivering.

At that moment she believed him. And when the stories came from the south about a child looking like her husband taken by the king, she couldn’t help but feel lied to. 

* * *

Butterflies in his stomach were a warning. The sun glows somehow wrong and the wine in his belly felt tasteless. With some woman’s hand across his belly, he woke up almost feeling that something will go completely wrong from him. Religion was something that was far from him, something that others used for comfort or lies; from the day his parents’ boat crashed and killed them he had found his comfort in basic pleasures of life.

But still, on a day like this, something was simply meant to go wrong. On a similar day, he learned that Lyanna was taken, on a similar day he learned that she dragged unknowingly entire Westeros to war rather than being married to him…Hate was a weak emotion compared to what he felt towards Rheager, something he could never feel towards Lyanna no matter how much he wanted.

Her boy was calling him a papa and the first time that happened he was sleeping on a Small Council meeting barely aware what was even the topic. The smell of King’s Landing stopped making him sick and now he was just drunk.

Arryn would often use Jon to get him to the Small Council meeting, while his dearest snake of the wife would take a boy to ensure he’s nowhere near him. Sometimes he would find funny knowing that she would kill the boy if she knew who the real father is. She never forgave Rheager for picking twice over somebody else but her. Clenched jaw and murderous glaze usually reserved for him was present when somebody dared mention him. Sometimes he just wanted to cut her neck to cleanse himself from her little games, but he still needed her family’s gold for whores and wine.

“Papa, papa”, the sound was drowned in the yapping of old self-righteous men, but he still managed to hear it. He could smell somehow the flowers growing in the Eyrie, and hear Lyanna’s laugh and in between all of memories when he was happy when he heard “papa”. Looking serious and being solemn just like Ned, the toddler was sitting on the desk in front of Jon Arryn. Robert watched him who like a little bird trying to test his wings spoke “papa” somewhat scared and unused looking directly at him silencing for the first time after many years Robert’s pain.

That was the moment when Lyanna’s boy became his boy completely.

He just got up silence them all surprising them with any action on his part. He completely ignored Varys’ comments on the unusually high number of new warships building on the Pyke and stories about rising against his reign, which in a way got him happy, but not enough to react, only to pull the boy across the table towards him.

“He said papa. My boy said papa.”

Robert was so happy that day that he even allowed slimy Cersei’s cousin Lancel to play with Jon. The garden was in full bloom, city vibrating with life and when the ladies of the court approached with his queenly wife in the front who was just waiting for the moment to take the boy, Robert showed his teeth in a condescending smile and said joyfully: “He said papa.”

She raised her eyebrow mockingly, “He said Papa to Jaime three nights ago. He calls me mother for weeks.”

“Well, when you manage to birth a royal heir you can have a child to call you a mother.” The ladies perhaps yearned to smile to the king, but after lady Ania attempted to kill royal bastard Cersei ensured that she controls their every move with their families’ position in court. More than one lady found herself banished, but not leaving without suffering the queen’s acid tongue. “Perhaps, I’ll be soon in need to find a queen capable of securing the continuation of royal bloodline.”

Tywin would burn the capital of Seven Kingdoms before allowing for his daughter to be set aside, but that little flinch brought him sweet pleasure usually found in a whore’s embrace.

That day was good, but he knew that this today won’t be.

The Iron Throne won in the battle and confirmed with a stroke of the sword in the Aerys’ back was his to sit and judge the rest. Peasants and lords would gather all under one roof, with hunger in their eyes came demanding justice being almost sad that there were no dragons skulls only hunting trophies and hope for the better life that will not come from him.

Cersei sat next to him, dressed in her richest dress emphasized that even more with her family’s colors and golden hair styled in a complicated twist and turns meant to cause sighs from everyone who isn’t them. She was always sending a message.

Her uncle was lurking around looking at everyone swiftly always ready to send a raven to his brother. Arryn told him how he suspected that Warden of the West appointed the knight to the court not to spy on him, but to correct his daughter’s mistakes as her affection towards his bastard was considered as one, but that didn’t stop Kevan Lannister to push his heir to play with Jon joined often by other noble children but as expected dominated by those who were seen loyal to the queen.

“Who’s next?”

After several hours of pretending and then stopping to pretend helped with more than 4 cups of wine, he was almost joyful. The massive wooden door opened, as the familiar child laughter echoed in the hall among the people. Robert took another cup, waiting for the boy to run in and toss himself in his arms. And then he saw the reason for commotion and even what expected him to do.

Like thousand needles stabbed him at the same time, with something in his throat stopping him to breathe...

Blood couldn't be denied, nobility knew nobility was something every man and women of noble birth were taught, but never was that seen so painfully as it was when his little boy was smiling and holding the burning golden sphere of Targeryen in his hand. A relic of a time past given to the dragon riders whose blood both of them share, but whose powers were diminished by the blood of generations that came after the dragons took their last breath.

Silence fell on the room. Horror must have been seen on his face when he heartbrokenly realized that somebody will see the truth in Stark looking boy with Targeryen talents and take him away. Ned and North would never forgive him for kidnapping Lyanna's boy, there would be another war and he wasn’t sure who would be on his side. He didn’t want to lose his son, not even to Ned. After having at least a dozen bastards, now he truly knew how does the gut-wrecking fear of losing your child feels.

"Jon, put it down!" Cersei screamed at the boy. Jon froze, but the fire burning in the sphere didn't, it was burning even stronger. Now the boy was scared, seeing as he was stared upon by the entire room.

His short legs were wobbly as he was putting down his new toy, not understanding why. And if there was an inch of lie everyone could be convinced scream that came from the Lannister boy when he took it and let it go immediately was enough. Kevan Lannister jumped towards his son and took him in his arms, looking at burned flash on the boy's hand worried. The burn was enough reason for him to ignore the fuss of fascinated audience and went searching for a measter.

The blood of dragons was strong, he could see in their eyes. Could he be immune to fire, they could wonder all they want, but in the mess of today, Robert understood something completely unexpected. Now nobody would think no more that he is Ned's bastard regardless of the boy's appearance, only in his family, there was a recent Targeryen ancestor and his ability not to burn could only come from him. 

Kingslayer was the only one who reacted and pick up now crying boy looked upon by some with hate and others with pure political want masqueraded in a smile as Robert was still standing frozen in the motion of existing. Lannister was smart enough not to ask for permission, dressed in white looking like a hero he will never be, followed by his sister and her ladies they left the hall.

"My King, we need to leave,“ Jon Arryn pleaded him.

"I still haven’t finished my cup." He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and sat again on the throne. Somebody had to know who were Jon's real parents, otherwise who would give a boy a symbol of his father’s family. It was up to him to protect not only his bastard, but to keep his throne for his heirs to come. "And extinguish that bloody sphere and move it out of my sight."

To a Targaryen loyalist in the audience bastard son of Baratheon who didn’t burn by fire felt like Gods’ mocking, while to Baratheon loyalist the sight of king's bastard not burning when touched by fire was an insult. But to others, it was an opportunity to use.

* * *

She screamed in pain not hiding her anger. Members of the Small Council looked at her with sorrow and almost typical awkwardness mixed with usual pettiness when a woman gets mad.

Robert stood proudly like he killed Rheager again. A proud hero who will take her boy and sent him to die.

"Arrogant fool!" She wanted him to pay. "Do you think Dorne have forgotten their dead princess and her children? Oberyn will smile to Jon as he hands him poisoned milk. They will call it an accident..." Her tears were filled with tears"... but the entire world will know it's spilled blood for a spilled blood."

Cersei put her hands on Robert who looked like he was in-between uncomfortable and angry.

"I beg of you, my King! Do not send him or sent him when he is old enough to defend himself." Her mind was searching the words to convince him, but his almost bored expression told her enough. Jaime was standing behind her holding the boy. She turned to Jon feeling desperation she never knew. His grey eyes looked scared, whimpering for her to hold him.

"Monster," Cersei spat to Robert whose face was getting redder by the minutes. She expected what happened, but that didn't dull the pain of his slap. Jaime jumped as did Jon Arryn.

"Robert!," Arryn gasped shocked. Jaime still holding Jon in his embrace turned her around looking worried and angry in the same time yearning to ease her pain. She knew how much both of them would gladly become Kingslayers without an inch of regret. Days like these didn't happen often, but they confirmed how bad king he was, how useless he is to the kingdom.

"You should be grateful that your Queen cares for the well-being of your child and your brother…"

Robert interrupted him. "Not Renly, she didn't even mention him."

"Jon barely has three name days, while your Lord Brother survived two and ten summers. Who do you think will be an easier victim?" She took the boy who was more silent then loud in her arms that started to play with her hair.

"I would rather send him to Dorne than look at you with him."

Jon Arryn knew that sending Robert's brother was a good choice, but not even he knew why suddenly he wanted to send his bastard. The realm was chatty when it comes to the queen and her unusual affection for the boy, but he never expected to see a man's wife wanting to keep a bastard in her home.

"Suddenly, I'm tripping over little Lannisters that came to their little play-date."

"Liar! You just hate that Targeryen blood is strong in him." The entire court saw the horror on their King's face when a toddler burst in running with burning golden toy without feeling any pain.

"He has nothing with them!” Robert shouted at her unintentionally spitting in her face. "I will kill you if you repeaed that again!"

Arryn grabbed and pull away from Robert from Cersei.

"Enough! Both of you!" The King's Hand breathed heavily, feeling somewhat of weakness and regret accepting the damned duty of being the King’s Hand. Children, both of them were children. Spoiled and angry that somebody is playing with their toys even if said toy was a mere toddler.

"Renly, according to the deal we have with Dorne, will be sent there."

"And the bastard?"

"He will, as well." He rubbed his head feeling a headache coming on. The almost heartbroken expression on Lannister twins was expected, but he knew that the unhappy queen, especially the one who has been bringing more and more of Lannisters and their allies and pointing them to the court was more than terrifying to have. "We have written already to Prince Doran and they would not take lightly an insult, but I suggest that we highlight our affections towards the boys and Renly's status as lord of Storm's End by sending a member of Kingsguard."

Everyone in the room knew who will be sent, for too long Arryn spoke how unnatural was to have a Kingslayer watching a king but that didn't stop ser Selmy from stepping out of the shadows and in front of them.

"My lord, my King if you could do me an honor to... "

"I am practically the boy's uncle and ..."

"No, you are not! Just like your sister isn't his mother. Just because you want something, that doesn't mean I will allow you... "

"No!" Cersei took a step back feeling surprise she never saw coming. Half of her was leaving, and regardless of the boy and her affection towards him, she didn’t want to lose Jaime. He came first before others. Because of Robert, she was losing everything. That drunken fool hated so much the blood of his grandmother that he was sending a child to the snake pit and her brother with him.

"If you sent anybody else, my King, it will be seen as cowardice. You have said that the boy will be there for one year alone."

"They'll say I sent you there to die. Your father will not take kindly to that."

"My father understands duty." Yes, a duty to the house of Lannister everyone could read in between words.

"Now you are sending not only your brother and your son whom I have been raising, but you are also sending my brother to die." Somewhere deep inside she took a vow to every God that every person in the room will pay, starting with Robert. At that moment she knew she would take his life.

* * *

His skin smelt like hers. The feeling of embrace was something she cherished, but she loved the feeling of having a power over Robert. She will not birth his children; only one worthy enough to father her babies was her brother and if there is justice she conceived today her golden prince.

Jaime wasn’t the strongest of men or the smartest, but he was brave and loyal to her. She enjoyed watching him, the very beauty he possessed and how beautiful he was carrying a sword and white cloak ready to serve her. The other half of her.

She was raging with anger and her father was in a similar position when he learned of the latest Robert’s idea and Jaime’s involvement in it. Her father would never give up from ripping Jaime from Kingsguard and putting him in his natural position of Castely Rock heir, but Cersei would never allow that. The mere idea that any woman would sit in her mother’s place and carry Jaime’s children made her sick to her stomach.

“I don’t want to leave you to Robert’s mercy.”

“He would have sent you regardless what you do.” She couldn’t stop touching him. His reaction to her made it even better. “He was almost desperate to send Jon away, and if that is a case there is an easier way to get rid of a bastard.”

“Did the father learn who the mother is?”

The night was warm, with sweat on their bodies feeling almost like a release of the ever-present tension. Tomorrow early on the docks of the King’s Landing, the very heart of Seven Kingdoms, a ship almost in disguise like merchant ship will with his royal and noble cargo sail towards Dorne and possibly their death.

“If she’s alive, I will kill her.” Jealousy was seeping through her words.

“What danger some whore would be to a queen of Seven Kingdoms?”, he asked her calmly. “You took care of lady Ania, as well as anyone who seeks to harm us.”

Ania was tortured for weeks by the best that money can buy, and there was to Cersei’s surprise a market filled with more than one talented man. Under the mask of darkness hiding between cold stones of the King’s Landing, she visited her to hear her pain and she discovered that one part of her enjoyed it.

“You need to survive.”

“I will never trust them.”

She couldn’t stop touching him. “We’ll kill them before they kill us, all of them.”

With his dark black hair and Baratheon blue eyes, it was obvious to all that Renly will one day be the very image of young Robert. But the young Lord Paramount of the Stormlands beloved for being the youngest son of late lord Steffon and lady Cassana and for his warm, non-invasive personality, found himself sitting on the docks and being ignored by everyone including his own men.

At first his eyes were caressing the boat in front of him which will take him to warm Dorne, home of the Sands and customs he could only dream to learn about. In Dorne everything was possible, even a woman could inherit the throne. Robert has often lectured him how days of his fostering with Ned Stark were the best time of his life. Stories which seemed larger than life would include details for which he was a bit too young, but that never stopped his brother. He overheard how he was a part of the deal to calm the hot Dornish blood after the death of royal relatives, only to include in it in the last moment Robert’s beloved bastard and the most hated Kingsguard. Stannis fumed commenting how Robert was sending them to die, but Jon Arryn seemed more than sure that he would survive.

The queen for the first time since he saw her looked distracted and distorted. Her hair was down like a never-ending waterfall of gold, and her green eyes swollen and bloody from tears long dried from her cheeks. The Kingslayer dressed in his white cloaks looking completely unprepared for the trip if men didn’t bring the alarmingly high number of chests filled with his stuff. His brother was drunk, barely able letting go of his son who was drooling saliva all over him, attempting to sleep through the morning. Jon’s unruly curly black hair seemed even messier especially since everyone couldn’t keep their hands from him.

In one moment the queen took him over, covering his face with kisses and holding him like he was her child. She tossed herself with his little cousin in her brother’s embrace creating an image unlikely to forget.

“Be aware. Look after yourself and do not trust them,” she didn’t stop warning him. “Do send me ravens about your and Jon’s health.”

Though it pained him not to be mentioned by his brother’s wife and to be put last to the Kingslayer and a bastard, he was of understanding from where she came about.

As he looked around himself smelling the sea and feeling somewhat humbled by the long shadow of the King’s Landing, like others he didn’t know that the war was knocking on their doors. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter, there were some problems with writing Baelish since I hate him and it's too early for him to die in ridiculously painful death otherwise the chapter would be done sooner. 
> 
> I have to thank everyone who left comments and kudos, there were truly an inspiration. 
> 
> And I honestly don't know when will I publish next chapter since I have nothing prepared and I'm doing it when I can, and with two jobs getting free time is not the easiest task. 
> 
> Happy holidays and happy New Years! :)
> 
> p.s. I failed to contact a person to be my beta to improve this grammatical mess, but I will do it.


	4. Chapter IV.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One act of mercy can change a life, but two can change a world.
> 
> Something that Robert didn't planned when he spared Lyanna's child, and Cersei didn't know when she didn't kill her king's beloved bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own GoT.
> 
> Warning: Presence of characters who are out of character, grammatical mistakes and possible super slow update.

IV. Chapter

The palace's pink marble glowed like a precious diamond in the sun, as the smell of blood oranges was mixing with summer breeze going through the halls and hallways, chilling the warm pools and fountains. There wasn't a shade, but children's joyful screams from playing somehow made the day easier.

"Look at the Kingslayer..." He couldn't help himself but to roll his eyes. His younger brother was anything if not predictable. "…he looks at the Dornish children like they are hiding a dagger on their back ready to kill him and the bastard."

Prince Doran sat on one of the balconies, peeling one of many oranges in front of him as he lost any hope for a relaxed afternoon. It wasn't too obvious to expect that arrival of the Kingslayer, who failed to protect his sister and her children, along with the Usurper's bastard and younger brother would brought the eyes of entire Dorne if not the Seven Kingdoms upon them.

He didn't fear that much that somebody might harm the children, but the Kingslayer was still a Lannister and there was not a Dornish who had a love toward that family. He doubted that there would ever be a situation in which he would shed a tear for him, nontheless he wasn’t too keen to hear the drums of war aiming for the Dorne. Sibling love on the side, he knew that wasn’t the case with his brother. Oberyn has never spent so much time in Water Gardens as he did now with the newly presence of their royal guests.

Discarding the uniform look of the Kingsguard in favour of Dornish clothes of a nobleman like he was trying to be incognito and failing, the Kingslayer was leaning on the nearby tree and looking with almost satisfied smile at his good-brother's bastard who was playing with other kids and screaming out of pure joy, while the child's uncle was surrounded by slightly older children playing some silly street hide and seek game. A good day some might say, but he would never.

There was a silent rage at him, the feeling spreading among his nobles and his people that he was weak by inviting the enemy to his house, on the other hand, how can a fool understand that weak on the surface can be underneath a predator.

Maybe the Usurper holds the throne, but unrest spreading across the Seven Kingdoms was showing the weakness to be taken and used against. The Iron Throne ignored the ships being built by the Ironborn, the Freys and the Boltons pushing the boundaries of their Wardens and organized groups of thieves and robbers became an expected part of the Kingsroad.

The Kingdom was cracking and all it will take was the time, which is what he needed. He promised his daughter to the last son of Targaryen, almost sensing that Robert will make the Kingdom ripe for the taking and he was ready for what was needed to do that, even if that meant stopping his brother from revenge.

Oberyn couldn't stop sighing, or commenting with disdain veiled in the words like the Lannister wouldn't notice. As long that was the worst he would do, Doran would keep his opinion to himself.

Doran leaned over the balcony's fence only to witness the king's child throwing himself to the Lannister's embrace dropping water all around and talking his ear off. For a man who allowed his sister and her children to be brutally killed, he clearly enjoyed child's company. That child's, he corrected himself.

Maybe it was guilt over Rhaenys and Aegon's death, a little voice in Doran quietly said, but he knew under all the bubbling emotions it was pure selfishness talking.

"At least he doesn't think that child holds a dagger."

"That child isn't born in Dorne nor is it Dornish, and is a bastard of his good-brother, a living danger to his kin." Oberyn couldn't stop unhappily grinning at the sight at him. "He will cut the boy's throat, and blame us."

Breathing strongly through his nose, resisting a desire to stab someone he couldn't help himself but to add. "....Lannisters kill babies."

"And they rape their mothers," Doran's words darkly followed his brother's ignoring how every person on the balcony turned towards him in surprise.

Oberyn's anger was maybe more known, but he was the one who was among the first who hold Elia, who promised while holding her little hand when she was barely days old that he would protect her. He was her big brother and he failed every promise, he couldn't even save her babies, but he would burn the ground under the feet of their killers.

What was one dead Lannister compared to destroying the very name and obliterating every trace of them in history?

Somebody put their hand on his shoulder and without turning around, he was sure it was his brother's paramour. Perhaps was the goal to calm him, but only the dead Lannisters will. He couldn't allow himself, like his brother often did, to get release in the rage, but when directed it had a tendency to create more mayhem for his sister's killers than any tantrum. 

"Marysa, call lord Lannister to join us with the child. Perhaps they would enjoy some fruit and a pleasant company."

The servant left quickly almost without a curtsy and as the few minutes flew by in a tense silence mostly created by venomous gazes on the price Doran. 

“Prince Doran, thank you for the invitation,” Doran nodded, showing with his hand at a chair next to him alluding quite obvious where he wants Jaime to sit, it helped that on one side was the railings and on the other Areo Hotah with longaxe. The boy was impatient, moving like he was trying to memorize everything not feeling the obvious tension.

“Calm down, Jon. I’ll give you an orange to eat. ” Lannister tried to reach, but with the chair being far from the table and with the child sitting in his lap it was difficult. Ellaria took an orange and handed it to the boy who noticed her for the first time.

“You are so pretty,” for a single moment he was still looking at her like she was the most beautiful person that ever walked. Ellaria’s smile was wide and somewhat joyful, so she kneeled for a mere moment in front of the boy only to mess with his hair and say a ‘thank you’.

“A bastard can appreciate a beauty,” Oberyn said warmly. Lannister raised his head from the boy withholding his rage burning in his green eyes.

“….what’s a bastard, uncle?”

There was a certain Lannister cruelty in not telling the boy the truth, as did the golden-hair knight looking like the hero from old squirmed uneasy touching Jon’s shoulders almost like he was his child.

He heard that the queen in the lack of heir practically adopted the child. The entire realm worshiped at the altar of the mother the queen aimed to mimic with her almost unusual behavior towards the boy; how did the boy not know meant that entire court including the very king took this as normal. One day the boy would learn that the kingdom doesn’t belong to him, that the queen isn’t his mother and that he is born either to die from his siblings hands or to be used to kill them. 

“I’ll tell you later, my boy!” Jon was eating an orange with a pleasure of a child, sucking the sweet juice not caring that most of it ended up on him and neither did Lannister who couldn’t stop touching his hair like he was consoling him in advance.

But that wasn’t enough. Perhaps it was boredom or simply the feeling of a secret whispered around him, but today was the day he would learn the truth.

“What’s a bastard?”

For the first time that day, Doran felt disgust sitting on his stomach like a weight he could recognize as a burden of being a leader. The killers, liars, schemers, a kingslayer…and nobody on the terrace have had a decency to tell the boy the truth. 

“It’s a child born to out of marriage. Your father is the king Robert, but a woman who birthed you is not the queen. That means a bastard.”

“You are not my uncle?” With his chin covered in orange pulp he turned towards Jaime. He might have wanted him and every member of his family dead, but not even Oberyn was cruel enough to enjoy seeing little boy’s heartbreaking. It was obvious looking upon the kingslayers’ face that he would rather fight a dragon then tell the truth.

“No, dear boy, I’m not your mother’s brother. But that doesn’t mean that I am not your uncle.”

“And uncle Renly? Is he my uncle? What about uncle Stannis?” Sensing that polite time went long time, Lannister took the kid whispering Gods-knew-what in the most soothing voice he could fake leaving them alone.

“Monsters!” Oberyn couldn’t help himself.

“One thing is to hate the Lannisters, but you have harmed an innocent boy just because you could.” It was fairly obvious that his paramour was raging. Perhaps she was hiding more than one corpse in the sand, but she never harmed children especially not the bastard one. “You pained one of my brothers and for what?”

Oberyn had no words to say, nothing to calm her and when he subtly tried to involve Doran he was equally ignored.

“I didn’t know that the boy didn’t know.” He was running with his fingers through his hair. His words achieved certain regretful tone that felt rather unnatural on Oberyn, as he sounded like a boy from times long forgotten. “It is a strange that a king’s bastard wasn’t already told who he was.”

“I didn’t know,” he repeated rather uselessly. Ellaria knew who Oberyn was, in a way they were the same but as a bastard daughter of a lord who depended on the goodwill, her heart bleed for children and bastards. And now it was bleeding for the king’s bastard.

* * *

The swords clashed one against the other. The air was so cold that the breath was visible, and somehow the main yard was filled with soldiers of house Mormont laughing and commenting until they were invited, often with sardonic smile, by Maege Mormont dressed in patched ringmail to cross their weapons with hers. Very few refused and of those who didn’t more than a few found themselves in a need for a measter.

“Join us, brother.” Maege called Joer Mormont.

“Not every battle is fought on the field,” he was short with raising even a glance at his quarrelsome sister as his focus primarily on the papers in front of him. Not many North Lords did it, but he enjoyed working the papers in front of his people to see that it is not a privilege but a duty of being a lord.

“Will cousin Jorah be married soon?” Maege’s eldest and a fighter in her own right sat on the weapon’s table on his left never missing not even one of her mother’s lessons.

“I do hope, for the house Mormont needs fresh blood.”

“If he doesn’t, my mother will.” Joer smiled just a little, but not enough to warrant a bigger reaction from his niece.

“Marry?”

Dacey Mormont chocked on laughter. He never could understand how his sister could create a girl so tough and so gentle in the same time. Proudly and little selfishly he thought how that was the Mormont way. Dacey was loved among their people more than Jorah ever would be; both were Northern as they could be but his niece had no silly affections for the South as did his son.

She smiled mysteriously with glow shining in her eyes, “Perhaps soon the fresh blood will arrive at Mormont Keep.”

“That bear that lies with my sister is a brave bear.” He was joyful for every new Mormont, but one part of him wished that Maege went more traditional route. When he was younger and more prone to danger he asked her about the possibility of a husband, she laughed before she told him that she-bear like her could only share furs with a bear and that she would marry a man who share his furs with a female bear and she knows no man from South or North brave enough to do it. To stop himself from commenting too much he bit his tongue and continue to do that ever since. 

“Where is my dear cousin?” Dacey changed the topic obviously no willing to comment on a father, who might well be hers as well. Perhaps those with lack of brain would ask her, but they well-earned the bruises on their body from Dacey and then from her mother who never had to found out but she did.

“He’s in a hunt.”

“Well, he obviously caught some humans.” Joer raised his head in a surprise and saw in front of him his son and his party bringing not only meat but the poachers. “I’m eating the boar.”

It never stops surprising him the problems they had with poachers. With his men crossing the island several times a day, there was little to non-chances that they wouldn’t be caught, but he was most surprised by those who came from the inland thinking it would be easier forgetting that they were the strangers to the land and that they were on the island without easy way to escape.

“Father, we have more people for the Wall.”

He expected more hungry than fed; for most poachers were locals who needed to feed their families and more often than not mercy was shown to them understanding the deeper picture. Perhaps only Boltons showed no mercy at all; stories were talked in hushed voices about horrific fates that awaited poachers caught in Roose Bolton’s sharp net.

Other lords would send them to the wall to do their duty for the North, while lady Dustin considered a mercy by cutting off their finger first time they were caught, and their head if they were caught the second time.

“I still haven’t talk to them,” soft reprimand was sound not only to Jorah’s ears. Even Maege raised her eyebrows and continued to pummel poor soldier to the ground.

“Who do you fight, men?” He asked them. Most of them weren’t scrappy peasants looking to add some food to the table, armed and well dressed with shoes that were newly worn they seemed more like a lookout for the army to come. 

“You, old man!”

In the corner of his eye he saw but barely reacted to the dirty scrappy boy charging at him with a weapon. Piercing pain was not that much mind numbing, so as the boy stab him between the ribs he grabbed him and pushed him on the side, as the knife was still stuck inside his body. His man hastily put weapons on the poachers’ necks, and the breathing became more and more heavy. The last he saw before he fainted was his sister hitting the assailant with her weapon. 

* * *

Their wine was spicy, food too sweet and the weather was either so hot that it melt his bones or so hot that it would kill the will to live, and yet dressed in pieces of rich and colorful fabric the Dornish lived each day fully. Others would enjoy, but the only Kingdom that refused to kneel hide its secrets just like the serpents crawling so dearly across their sand.

And the sand? He couldn't get rid of it, no matter what he did. It was present in his food, clothes, and just when he thought that there would be a moment free of sand a warm breeze would bring it back.

He hated Dorne, and they hated him. He would resist opening his eyes as long as he could every morning, trying to convince himself that they were still at King's Landing and that in matter minutes he would be joined by Cersei, but no matter how many lies he repeated they still burned under the Dornish sun.

The sound of knocking has winced him from his afternoon sleep. "I'm coming."

Just in case he grabbed his sword and opened the door looking at a servant he already saw several times in the palace holding Jon whose face was painfully red and eyes filled with tears.

"What happened to him?" He took the boy checking the damage on his body. He should have known not to leave him with Renly. The little prick promised him that they would be in his room playing just so that Jaime could have few hours for himself. Half of the time king's brother was interested only in clothes and socializing with young nobles of Dorne, Jaime should have assumed that young lord would be up to something. He would definitely regret that.

"He stayed too long in the sun, my lord. It is not good for the young ones," she dared to judge him looking him rather crossed like the guilt for this should fall on him.

"Get maester!" Jon was whimpering, crying every time when Jaime would have touch red skin. The little one was in pain, and he could do nothing to change it. The servant looked at him still like he was an idiot. "Get me a measter. NOW!"

"What is going on here?"

Oberyn walked in like it was meant to be, throwing a shy smile to the servant who now seemed quite delighted to be there.

"Jon has a sunburn and your servant enjoys his pain." Oberyn's eyes grew darker from quiet rage as he turned towards her with his arms crossed.

"Leave! I'll deal with you later," his father never had a problem with servants disobeying his guests, and the similar behavior was unthinkable at the King's Landing. "I'll help you, Lord Lannister. Here we know how to deal with sunburn."

He addressed Jon: "Brave little boy, aren't you?"

"We need to bathe him, and there are some lotions to calm him." For the first time since they arrive there was no hate towards him.

"Will he be in pain?"

Oberyn raised his eyebrows refraining himself from comments. The boy was already in pain, sunburns were dangerous especially for the children. Only thing they could do know is ease his suffering and give him time to heal.

"Urlick!" Almost relax Oberyn took off his summer surcoat showing bare arms, tossing it onto a chair and turning around just in time to welcome a gray-haired man who succeeded to nod to both of them while checking every detail in the room without much reaction. "We need to fill the bath with water and lotions to ease the sunburn."

Jaime tried to console Jon without touching the reddest area of his skin promising him that it won't hurt soon, that it will be better but it failed. He was quietly whimpering from the pain, reacting unhappy to every touch and looked completely miserable.

Renly will pay for that, Jaime swore. Like an army, servants entered with water filling the bath, with Oberyn standing in the center of the bedchamber like a master of procession, while Urlick put on the desk bottles with lotions so smelly that even Jaime could smell them.

"There's too much water is a bath for Jon, he'll drown." Water was spilling on the side creating a mess.

"Lord Lannister, nobody would put the child in bath meant for an adult. You need to sit in the bath with the boy. He knows you and he would take that much better." The Dornish prince treated him like he was an idiot, and he felt like one.

"Jon, if you take this bravely I will teach you how to fight."

The boy loved to practice fighting even if he was barely able to lift a wooden sword and unlike Robert, he had certain grace, elegance and natural ability like he hasn't seen in years.

Robert didn't allow Jaime to teach Jon preferring that either he teaches him which would usually finish with the king well in his cups telling the story how to kill the dragons or by ser Barrister.

Even Stannis was seen once practicing with the boy, which after Robert’s speech on the small council how somebody was stealing his bastard never happened again but Stannis used his role as a Master of ships to show the boy the ships if anything to spit his brother.

"Give him poppy milk to ease his pain."

Out of nowhere Oberyn pulled a little dark bottle, and Jaime just looked at the bottle and at him trying to ignore Cersei's words how Oberyn would poison the toddler by using the milk and even though fear clenched his stomach he nodded shortly. As he caressed Jon's curly hair, he knew that he would kill the Dornish prince if he killed the boy even if that started a war.

Jon didn't enjoy the taste of poppy milk but he said nothing. Lately, he didn't say much to Jaime, and there was this tense emotion surrounding him like he already wasn't too serious child. He missed when Jon would ask him the most stupid question always expecting the answer from him.

Jaime handed the boy to surprised Oberyn who took him over with an expertise of a father. The Kingsguard carefully entered in the bath feeling the coldness of water and he sat down causing even more water to spill.

Looking like a wet cat, he complained: "Does it have to be this cold?"

"Yes." Oberyn started making faces and reproducing sounds with his mouth to amuse the child, but Jaime while hiding a smile noticed did not work. "We know how to deal with trepercussion of neglecting a child to the sun."

"Renly will pay for this." His green eyes were dark almost promising.

The prince looked at the child now curious like he was seeing something more, "He's a stupid little lord who left the boy to go and play. How could he know what are possible consequences? He barely knows where he wants his prick." 

Oberyn handed the boy to Jaime who then started to cry, pressing himself to Jaime. One part of Jaime that felt hurt after Jon started being cold after he learned that Jaime wasn't his uncle enjoyed that the boy who was the closest he had to a son still trusted him. He expected that the look Jon gave him would come later when he learned that he was a Kingslayer, not when he learned that they weren't related.

"I don't like it, uncle. Why it is cold?"

"Yes, it is. But it will help you." His teeth started to shiver. "You'll be brave, won't you? Just for a little bit."

They weren’t in the water too long, but somehow it felt hours have passed by them.

"Give me the boy. It's not good for him to be too long in the water. He needs rest and lots of sleep."

"He will be looked after." Jaime was firm. He wouldn't do that for the Robert or Cersei, he'll do that for Jon.

It felt unthinkable that he would care about somebody who wasn't a Lannister, but unlike with Rhaenys and Aegon he had more familiar contact with Robert's bastard. He didn't stop fearing that Cersei would feel fear and kill him; her words after her son died still echoed in his mind. If Ania didn't attempt to kill Jon that night, poor child would have an enemy that would ensure that he doesn't survive this next name day.

_Flasback_

_She was wet, barely walking and the subtle trail of blood followed them as she froze to all but Jon. Cersei pressed him to her chest, touching him like he was her child causing Jaime to panic quietly as he knew that this won't finish good for anyone. Did her mind from pain confused whose child was in danger or was she planning to get rid of the bastard in secret? Tyrion was always better reading her intentions; he however was more prone to do react, not plan._

_"Your Grace, please allow me to help you," she ignored him. Servants stared just for a second too long only to lose themselves in the hollow corridors._

_"Prepare the bath and clothes for the queen," he ordered to one of her ladies. She sat down on the bad and put down Jon who was screaming for her._

_"Hush, little one." She huffed at her maid who brought her a dress. „The boy needs to change as well. Do think!"_

_Cersei raised her eyebrow than at Jaime and pointed to the door. He wanted to say anything but whatever happened in her head, he simply couldn't understand it so he took to watch her door. Robert smelled on wine and women, and as much he wanted to hide with a robe, not even he could hide how easy muscles turned soft. Robert wasn't made to sit in a castle._

_"Always the dog."_

_He almost never responded to Robert's barbs, he didn't allow himself to make Cersei's life worse. Robert wasn't mad as Aerys but still the same poison was flowing in their veins. Perhaps others didn't see it or didn't want to, for nobody was burning during Robert's reign but the same madness existed._

_Visible to all but ignored when Robert yield his enemies to death with his war hammer, the glow in his eyes which called for the war almost welcoming it with equal measure as making bastards. The very thought his sister had to lay with that man made him sick and mad._

_"She saved him."_

_"Yes, she did." Jaime confirmed._

_"I will allow her tonight to have him, but when tomorrow sun raises I do not want either of you near him. He doesn't need you."_

_Jaime waited until every one of her ladies left so that he could enter. Used to hiding, his steps were slow and quiet. The light was shining upon her face, making her hair a crown he so badly wanted to give her, with barely swollen stomach that hide scars deep on her soul she smiled for the first time since the pain started at a boy she wanted dead._

_"One day you will grow up and you will guard me and my children like I guarded you tonight. That is your debt."_

_End Flashback_

She would proudly look at Jon playing with Lancel and softly spoke in his ear when she would take him in her embrace how one day he will be her champion. It never failed to strike fear in him. She would make him the perfect Kingsguard making him watch as his royal sibling rule and have everything, or kill him before he dares make a move.

Jaime was mad and will be until his last breath how he was shipped away just because Arryn hated the Lannisters and feared to have a Kingslayer in their midst even if he was the Queen's brother but one small part of him that would never confess out loud was grateful being away, not to stand in the King's Landing and not being there as Gods intended with Cersei. 

He missed her with entire soul and welcomed each of her letters with great pleasure but Dorne was somehow good for him. For both of them.

* * *

She pursed her lips in malcontent. Instead of looking at her oafish son, she concentrated herself to look at her own portrait. At least she would look at something beautiful, when she had to hear nonsense from the child she gave birth to.

"Do you have a daughter?" She cut him leaving uptight expression on Mace's face. "Well, no but...there will be more children, I am sure."

"Fat you are, but still you haven't given birth to a child or become a maester." Almost shy smiles appeared on everyone's faces, there was certain pleasure to Lady Olenna's wit. "You have sons, and while Alerie is pregnant you do not know what will be pull from her."

"But my daughter would be a good queen." Mace insisted.

"A Tyrell on the throne is more than desirable, but to whom would you marry her even if she is the child growing in your lady wife's womb?"

There was no point in discussing what if situation, when there was enough on to work with. Jon Arryn was getting more leaning towards the Dorne, and the Lannister were crawling all over King Landing like spiders in desperate need for a good broom. The Ironborns were sniffing about every tree they could find, and there was no doubt that it will not be for their pissing.

"The Lannister queen still hasn't birthed the heir, and I doubt that you would hand a trueborn Tyrell to Robert's bastard..." Olenna waved hands dramatically, if anything to stop herself from hitting her son."...and I do mean the one that even the Lannisters accepted."

"Well, no but..."

"When my granddaughter is born, and the queen pops up a boy than we can gladly talk about her becoming the queen, but for now we need to get what the crown owns us."

"But auntie, we were on Targaryen side..."

Olenna smiled at a child of her husband's niece, petting him gently on his head.

"That should never stop us."

* * *

“May the fire pure your sins,” the sand beneath her feet grated the rough skin of her heels. Her sisters stood on the side praying solemnly to their God. This was a joyful moment not only for the followers of R’hllor but for the citizens of Assai it was a promise of death that stopped. The men were now silent, like they never killed or raped, the youngest of them one was crying but saw no mercy coming to him.

Their heads won’t be cut off; their necks won’t snap with the noose, their punishment will be burning to invite the Lord of light to light them strongly as it did for their lives.

Melisandre with her eyes opened stared as one of her fellow priests light the wood under the criminals, and as fire started to flicker she felt calm washing over her. There in the warmth of the fire was her God, her savior.

The smell of burning flesh and screams of dying men felt like a background to the story told by the small flames flaring around the scoring wood turning slowly to ashes. Her God was here. His presence filled her soul with warmth and she caught herself raising her arms, moving to the words the believers prayed upon the sight in front of them. They burned bonfires every night so that he bright on them and the world in which they live the warmth of his fire so that another day may come, but when fire cleansed the world of darkness of Great Other she could feel him more. As she looked as fiery as her mortal body allowed she approached to the fire pyre, fall on her knees and listening what her God told her. 

The images burned in her mind of warmth of the long summer, with grains being hoarded in the stocks all over Westeros, as the coldness sip through slowly extinguishing life on its own. Her eyes were clouded with visions of footprints slowly appearing in the snow, as the chills cover her body. She was cold like she was never. She didn’t even realize that she had fallen on the ground on the side shivering and shaking.

“The night is dark and full of terrors”, she could hear. Trying to gather her own strength to answer, but she failed lost in non-stopping vision of death and cold. One treacherous part yearned to be slapped to stop what she was seeing and feeling from the flames, but nobody would dare to touch her during the visions. Here they respected their God too much to desecrate his will.

There was no clue how much time has passed, for she woke up lying on her bed with molted candles to show her how long she was being blessed.

“What have you seen?”

“A warning. The Lord has spoken.” Melisandre didn’t have to turn to recognize the voice of High Priest. Like her, he was bought as a child and just like her he rose in ranks in centuries that come for both of them. “The Evil is coming.”

Disappointment was obvious on him as his words were laced with cold anxiety, “The Lord has spoken that to many before you. What else did you see?”

“I have seen many brutal battles between armies carrying the sigils of the great Houses embraced by the false Gods…” a headache was pounding and she couldn’t see it as a gift or a warning, “I could feel the ground thirsting for the blood of innocent, counting down what is to come. Our Lord has allowed me to see the golden-haired children on the throne that doesn’t belong to them and snow covering the realm bringing the death. The Great Other is not coming, it is here.”

* * *

The room was small, and damp. From uneven lines on the wall it was apparent that once upon a time the room has had windows, now barricaded with stones and mud. In the center of the room was a table and on each of its sides were wooden benches.

“Nobody should enter. Kill them, regardless of who they are.”

At the lowest level of Citadel, between sealed old dungeons was a room very few of maester kind could confirm and only those who carried the chain heard the murmurs of its existence; their secrets actually remained ones.

As the men dressed in hooded cloak hiding much of their faces entered in the room they stood waiting for Seneschal. In those short moments they didn’t raise their heads or spoke, to prevent the guards to learn who they are.

As the Seneschal entered, he closed the gate behind him sealing the room completely. He locked the door, returning the key to the string and putting it on his neck.

“Fellow maesters, follow my lead.” He sat on the bench only to remove the chain from his neck and putting it on the table in front of him. With little hesitance, one by one following his instruction.

“There is no point in delaying the obvious. Magic is back!”

The lack of response was answer enough. 

“Our predecessors had witnessed the destruction brought upon this land by the magic, and they took on themselves the task to protect the Seven Kingdoms.”

“What do you ask of us?”

“This is about the boy, isn’t it?”

To every one of them, handpicked as the most knowledgeable ones and most loyal to the goal of their ancient order, the news of a child carrying the mark of magic seemed like a failure.

“He showed a possibility for affliction as a mare babe, so I ordered another test be done when he was slightly older.” Seneschal explained.

“So publically?” He wasn’t the oldest, some would say that he was a reclusive even for a maester but seeing firsthand how court works during the same years of the Mad King gave him insight most of his colleagues sorely lacked. “He ran in front of entire court holding a fire in his hands and not burning. The king couldn’t ship him faster to Dorne, and if they didn’t send the Kingslayer with him I would have thought that they were trying to ensure boy’s death.”

Seneschal looked tired, as an archmaester who earned his chain by studying the art of math and economics, magic was not a problem he thought he would face. “It was ensured that the boy forgets who gave him the sphere, but as it was given to him he just took off and the maester in charge for that task couldn’t catch him on time.”

“Weak knees do that, as does the many name days,” one of them commented wisely and regretted automatically feeling the burn of glares. 

“Our business is our own. We carry a chain representing the knowledge passed from generation to generation unsullied by mistakes of others. We need to choose what will be the course of our action, shall we kill they boy or allow him to live?” The oldest among them spoke. He was chosen three times already in the lottery as a Seneschal never hiding the pleasure he received from exercising duty most archmaesters considered an a drag to their own studies.

“To understand the problem, we need to study it. If the boy meets its maker faster than he should, we are losing opportunity to face our enemy with knowledge we could possess.” The youngest among them said, while touching gently with the links on his chain.

“What are you suggesting?” Seneschal was direct. There was not lot of room for mistake, especially faced with an enemy which has no face or origin.

“Targaryens would never allow us to examine properly those who could unburn, but with this bastard with could do it and learn how to destroy the magic in his blood.”

“What are you suggesting is against our rules!” More than a few were appalled. 

“So is this council. We exist in absolute secret solely to destroy the magic while in the same time we publicly abhorred it including our own members who dare to study it.” He was persistent. “We are not monsters, but if we can learn we should use this opportunity.”

“What if the future trueborn children of King have the same sickness? The Lannister Queen will never allow that we examined them for the purpose of studying.”

“Exactly! Better a bastard than a trueborn.”

“As a bastard I am absolutely horrified with your words, and the Bolton cruelty lying beneath them.” The oldest among them was now furious. It was maybe forgotten, but as a bastard of North’s noble he well understood the hardship of being a noble man’s bastard. “Do you think that the King who worships the child would allow you to investigate or perhaps the Queen who showed much affection to her husband’s bastard that she saved his life? If a maester gets caught, he would doom us all. I vote against this proposal. It would be better if child dies than to live to suffer like that.”

The Seneschal looked hopelessly as his colleagues, some of the brightest minds that brighten the Citadel and their order, were fighting like savages with screaming, yelling and even hitting the table while some threatened to take it outside like they were youngsters. It was obvious that two sides were dominating the discussion; the one led by their youngest member for conducting examination and if needed experimentation and other who was led by their eldest member to simply kill the boy. The two political currents were obvious even in everyday workings of Citadel, both radical in their desires but highly unpractical which is why conservative approach was always the easiest way to go.

“Enough! We need to vote today how we will deal with the issue of magic returning to the realm. We mustn’t forget if it is returning that there will be more signs which deserve our equal attention. The realm is not still safe from the war, and the winter is coming.” He looked each and every one of them in the eyes hoping that it will be enough to highlight their situation.

From his robes he pulled a small bag containing twelve red colored pieces of wood and twelve blue colored pieces of wood. He handed to each of the member a piece of each color, taking for himself pieces meant for the Seneschal serving as a deciding vote if it was needed.

“On the table must remain only the piece for your option. You know what red means and what blue means in our order, I do hope that no further explanation is required.”

One by one they were placing painted pieces of wood in front of them until only the Seneschal remained.

“Decision can be only made if all vote and that includes me. Today we have heard from all of you, and while we could be wrong it is our duty to do what is needed regardless of outsides choices,” With tmost solemn expression on his face, he had put a blue piece on the table ensuring that there was more of blue pieces of the table. For them decision have been made.

* * *

Ever since his wife lost another babe, he couldn’t help himself to drawn himself into the business of the Kingdom. And ever since his namesake was sent to Dorne, Robert avoided the Council like it was carrying greyscale. Not surprisingly, but running the Kingdom was its King’s worst nightmare.

However, that didn’t stop the Lannisters from trying to assert themselves into it; Kevan Lannister mostly pushed by his brother demanded a place to ensure fair representation of Westerlands like their queen already wasn’t a Lannister, and queen Cersei like she already didn’t control much of the King’s Landing. Arryn personally never has met a Lannister that didn’t what to take everything, and that made his already hard job slightly easier.

By giving the breaks all over the Seven Kingdoms which included some of the most undeveloped houses in Westerlands, he was ensuring the creation of strong opposition in the long-term sense. And for the mare fun, he made the Lannister to work for it. Stannis who still fought cold diplomacy among his nobles, enjoyed that less than pulling his teeth especially since he was in the midst of marriage talks with house Florent desperate to consolidate power with the royal family.

All of Arryn’s games would have gone easier if he had any support, but with Robert not caring, Ned willingly stuck in the North, Stannis being still mad at his royal brother for losing the Storm’s End and more than one enemy sitting next to him at the Council it was near impossible.

Stannis grumbled. “We are receiving more than one letter of invitation from all over the Westeros.” He looked at him fiercely not pretending that he wasn’t judging. Arryn could have only hoped that marriage and children would mellow Stannis, but after meeting bride-to-be he wasn’t too sure. Compared to his brother’s queenly wife, Selyse was unattractive and with even more sorrows for Stannis her character didn’t seem too appalling. The charm was never Florents’ strong arms.

“An invitation?” Stannis deserved respect, regardless how little he was getting from Robert, for his staggering strategic mind and stern loyalty to the crown. During Robert’s more damaging escapades, when his loyalty wavered for a second he wished that it was Stannis who was carrying the crown only to feel guilty for such a thoughts.

“It was a right thing to send the boy,” which boy King’s Hand wanted to ask for there was no doubt what was his feelings towards each of the boys.” However, we are getting letters from various lords to foster the favorite King’s child.”

“Would you take the boy if the King demanded of you?”

“I would,” there was no hesitation in his voice. Stannis hated Robert’s character, unjustly considered his younger brother for a fool, but there was no hiding that he liked little Jon. For somebody who was very much against having the bastard in the Red Keep, he seemed to enjoy in boy’s serious nature very much like his. “But the king would never demand that from me.”

He didn’t want to comment more. After all, he was there when Robert in fit of jealous forbidden him from teaching the child how to fight, and the expression on Stannis’ face was heartbreaking enough. The King’s Hand always found interesting how different Robert and Stannis were. Stannis witnessed the war in full sense of destruction almost starving to death surviving thanks to his rigid character, while Robert was the living symbol of pleasure and destruction always with full belly surrounded with adoring audience. He could remember all the fights Stannis had with Robert demanding that the boy leaves, but unlike Robert Jon knew that was said out of deep caring. 

“No, he wouldn’t. How do you suggest that we deal with letters? We do not want that the nobles see Dorne as a favored one.” He already had an idea, but sometimes part of his job was to coax out of people what was needed.

“Their princess and her children were murdered. Nobody sees them as the favored one.” Stannis stated with almost cold dryness in his voice. Jon nodded with his head agreeing somewhat with man in front of him.

“But death is easily forgotten, especially since both lord Renly and the boy are there. There is more than one unsatisfied lord in the realm and it would be a good thing to remind them who is their ruler.”

“If we send the King to the small tour, we are risking unnecessarily the crown and there is no need to spend that many dragons.”

The King’s Hand smiled showing his rotten teeth, “Exactly, that is why I was thinking that you and Lord Renly, after his years in Dorne end, to make the tour with little Jon joining you two. After all, you are the King’s brothers and nobody would deny the prestige of having three of you as guests.”

“I need to think. My weeding approaches and there is a need for me to have an heir.”

“Of course, for each man, has the need for an heir, myself included.” The news of his wife losing a child was heard even by Stannis, usually ignorant of gossip. 

Young Baratheon lord now looked uncomfortable, as the stern expression was now lost showing how young he really was. 

“That is such life. We can hold power and fortune of one’s land in our hands, but without an heir, we are weak as a bird during the winter. I do wish you many sons and daughters. There is no bigger joy than a house filled with children.”

“Thank you, Lord Arryn.” Stannis took the first opportunity to escape. Nobody wanted to talk to him about dead or live babes, and he could understand them. Maybe he was too old and no womb from young wife could heal that.

“I would not recommend sending such a young boy on the travel through the realm.”

“I doubted that he would be a target, more so he could meet his siblings.”

Arryn truly enjoyed working with Varys, and sometimes when he was being honest to himself he would acknowledge how eunuch was playing the long-term game whose goal not even he could see.

“Regardless of Westeros’ cruel attitude towards children born outside of marriage bed, the bastards King sired would surely not enjoy seeing another of their bastard sibling enjoying all the royal privileges.”

“Most of King’s bastards are children…” The urge to sneeze became stronger by the second, lilac perfume was simply too strong.

“Oh, yes, but their power-hungry guardians are not.” The master of whispers looked at him like he knew more than him. “And we do not want young lord Jon to die.”

* * *

Robert enjoyed almost sadistically spending his days with whores, only to come smelling on them in her chamber demanding his rights. The septons and septas would say that it was his right, but they weren’t married to a brute and nobody ever cared about her rights, her pleasure expect her Jaime. She had a smile on her face as septa explained to her what she needed to do to keep this child.

“For as I know, you are only repeating to your queen what somebody might have whispered to you since I am quite aware of your lack of children.”

She did not like those little bitches. Always judging, pretending to care about the Seven when they yearned for power just like them. She has heard stories of septas from becoming too close with their pupils to those who enjoy torturing them too much in the name of the Seven.

“My queen,” there was a slight reproach in her voice Cersei knew septa would regret it, “…the child in your womb must survive for the sake of the Kingdom. I have dedicated myself to the Seven and your first child wouldn’t have died if you had removed yourself from that lust-born child. His presence cursed your womb.”

Cersei could feel the rage towards that old woman dressed in septa clothes sent to control her like little mouse can control the lion.

“My husband’s bastard, you mean, born out of his lust towards some woman, when he took her long before we spoke our vows in the Great Sept of Baelor before the Seven.” There was a certain pleasure of watching the old crone widening her eyes as it was hearing other ladies gasping in shock like it was mystery who her kingly husband was.

”It’s not even his first for that would be a girl named Mya Stone he sired when he was boy barely seven and ten. Perhaps you should talk to him the same way you think you have a right to talk to your queen.”

Her womb wasn’t cursed; she realized later, it just didn’t allow that the seed of Baratheon survives. Her soul would carry the scars of losing her prince for the end of her days, but a stag couldn’t be stronger than a lion and unfortunately his father’s weakness was what killed her prince. But now as she carried Jaime’s son, she had a feeling everything will be as it should be. Only thing that was missing was Jaime.

When he left, she entered his room stealing what he had left of his clothes so that she could smell him and feel less lonely. There were stories how too much letters the queen sent to her brother but when the court learned she expected the pressure dropped as all remembered her losing a child thinking naively that she was searching for some comfort in their twin connection. Fools would see what they need to see, so she gave the picture they wanted to tell.

She did occupy her time with taking more control over the council, especially ever since Robert gave her open hands with his everlasting ignoring of his royal duties. It wasn’t easy with Arryn blocking her attempts, but not even he couldn’t stop a Lannister. Even uncle Kevan helped her, regardless how unpleasant he was during it. And that stupid boy of his, she would suspect he wasn’t a Lannister if he didn’t look nothing like his lady mother and all like his Lannister father, couldn’t stop asking her when Jon will return like it was up to her.

It would be difficult to mold a child to protect her children if somebody else is attempting to mold him as they like. Luckily, there was Jaime stopping the Dornish from getting too close to them.

She couldn’t care less about Renly, and there wouldn’t be any tears if something unfortunately happened to him. He was perhaps barely a boy grown but he was a child that survived a war witnessing a starvation and he used that to turn people towards him, and there was little doubt that he would use it even better when he grows. Robert already started to talk about ensuring that his little brother gains a role in the small council, and as much as she could she would do anything to stop it. Stannis was quite enough for her.

For women was different and more difficult in life for they lacked the piece of meat between their legs that gave the men false illusion that they were smarter and more powerful. Robert was a staggering fool, Jon Arryn a blind sighted old man, and apart from Varys who lacked the cock, the rest of the council was weak bounded by their narrowness. And yet they dare to look on her as weak when she was better than them. Only she was meant for greatness and she would do anything to set the right path for the future king in her womb. And today’s dinner was one of those things.

Her ladies awaited her in her chamber with already prepared red dress meant to glorify her pregnant belly for all her enemies to see. Her kingly husband, she thought almost with mockingly, invited some of the most powerful lords and their little ladies to sit on a feast with him. A since there will be those who were considered boring, there was no doubt whose plan it was.

The Targareyns were destroyed, but people still mistrusted Robert and everybody could well understand why. When she saw a dark-haired hero of the war waiting for her to make her the queen just like she was promised she was delighted but several hours later to hear his drunken voice grunting the name of that Northern whore as he was pushing himself inside her body….hate was the only option. Perhaps she would hate him less if he was worthy of that if he was anything except the disappointment to her and the realm.

As she arrived to the dinner Cersei noticed with gloating how her expectations were superseded. Robert was already drunk, barely able to talk maintaining the decorum only because his chair kept him grounded in more than one way and almost all present ignored his royal state of being. Arryn who sorely had done a sea of mistakes in raising his good-son was acting like Robert wasn’t inappropriately grabbing the kitchen wenches, his wife everlastingly dull Lysa Tully didn’t stop looking with barely contain outrage both her husband and the King like she was any better then them. Rumors were circling how she handed her maidenhead to a nobody, a brothel owner. 

It gave her rather inexplicable pleasure to shower the King’s Hand with a subtle suggestion how all brothel owners should go to jail since it was against the Seven, and she gained even more of it when that uptight fish attempted to defend them. Jon Arryn had no clue that his wife was making him a fool.

“My love,” she addressed Robert while ignoring her uncle’s subtle looks. “Since I will give an heir to the crown in just a few months, I would like to ask you to call for Jaime to protect me. After all, who better would protect me than my brother?”

Under her words Robert could easily read that it would mean for his little boy to return home even if it was just for a while. Cersei knew what she was asking, and there was no possibility that he would refuse even if that meant putting up with Jaime. If she had sent letters, so was Robert. More than one ship was sent to bring to the boy his favorite food and clothes, like he wasn’t already treated like a prince in Dorne, she thought dissatisfied.

“If the Kingslayer returns for the birth of his nephew, then my boy also has to return. Jon, you will handle everything with the Dorne.”

Jon Arryn didn’t hide his displeasure. “This is nothing more than fear, my queen. Nobody will attack you in the heart of the Seven Kingdoms, and your brother can’t help you with the birth nor can he influence it. There is no need to possible insult the Dorne.”

“Are you saying that King’s brother is less worthy than a member of Kingsguard and a bastard?”

Did he honestly think that she didn’t think about his every response? She was willing to do anything to make sure Jaime returns to her.

“Of course not, my queen. But your brother was sent to protect them both, why would you like to take away lord Renly’s protection?”

Cersei barely controlled herself not to slap away victorious smile on Jon Arryn’s face, so she just smiled. After all, she was the queen.

“I presumed they would all return or is the Dorne especially favored by you to have the right to foster the king’s younger brother?” He will not take what was hers, even if she had to put up with Renly. The nobles present now quiet down waiting for the answer.

“My queen, we would never favor one region over the other as you well know.” His voice was patronizing, like he was explaining to child, knowing that his answer would be repeated among many Lords. “We are grateful that Dorne looks after its prominent guests teaching them why Dorne is so unique, as all regions in the Seven Kingdoms are. Your father would most agree with me.”

“Fostering is the best time in one man’s life,” Robert mumbled laughing almost joyfully as he was barely aware of their conversation. “I would do it again, and if Renly wants to stay he should. We’ll send somebody else to protect him.”

“Your Grace,” Ser Kevan Lannister addressed his king, not blinking to his obvious state and deliberately avoiding looking at his niece. ”My brother and I share the same opinion for fostering as you do, which is why I would like to extend an official invitation from Lord Tywin that the house of Lannister foster young Jon.”

If all the smiles died when Rheager crowned Lyana Stark, then this was the moment that sobered even the most drunken ones.

* * *

The sun was burning her face, almost as the wind was cooling it down. From her window, she could see growing fleet and while one part of her was pleased she wasn’t blind to the up-and-coming war.

Two of her sons were grown up men, captains of their ship and her joy. She wasn’t blind to their flaws as mothers can be, it would be rather difficult to ignore Rodrik’s tendency to stare little bit deeper into his cups or Maron’s love towards turning the wheels on the truth. But with Balon as their father, they actually turned out better than she assumed when she was told she was marrying a Greyjoy.

Her little ones were covering her every step with one of their, not scared as they were excited by with the upcoming change. Yara already showed insatiable hunger for the sea, unmatched by any of her brothers and there was no doubt in Alannys’ mind she was raising a future ship captain. She wouldn’t be a rock wife to anyone.

Her little Theon was somewhat of a gentle soul, proud to babble but for some reason, he detested his older brothers. And as long as she was ignored by her husband, she led a good life.

Balon was angry at his father and his destruction of their old ways, and she agreed that it was unthinkable to change a thousand year of breaking the waves and following the sea’ seductive singing. Still, as the one that would stay home as they declare the war and fight, she wasn’t impervious to fear. After all, her own flesh was in danger.

Her brother would tease that she was becoming like one of those mothers from the inland unwilling to let her children away, but he was an ironborn, more accustom to finding new salt wives then understand what meant being a parent. She wasn’t silly to think that Balon knew how to be a parent, but he gave her sons ability and gusto for fighting. What more one rock wife could wish?

* * *

“Doran, this is an insult.” Oberyn tossed Arryn’s letter onto his desk before he tossed himself into a chair opposite of him. His brother’s usually lovely face was grimaced from anger, although the prince didn’t fully understand why.

He wasn’t sorry that the Kingslayer and the bastard were leaving Dorne. In a way both sides gladly welcomed the queen’s pregnancy and her invitation to return for the birth of royal heir. Jon Arryn wrote to him to inform him how while they will leave for a while, the king’s brother would remain. But that still wasn’t enough to convince Oberyn who felt that even leaving for a while was an insult of its own kind.

“They are our guests, not hostages.”

“If the Gods are merciful, they would be.” He waved his hands. “Not the boy, he’s not guilty of who his father is.”

“I do pity the boy. He will be able to say that luck blessed him if he survives his tenth name day.”

“He won’t.” Oberyn was deadly serious. “If it is a boy, the royal couple will soon forget about him. When the heir is born the queen will no longer suffer from the hungry womb and it’s not a secret how Robert treats his bastards.”

“You pity him?” Doran was somewhat surprised.

“I hate his father, I hate the Lannisters and the vileness they spread like poison through this land but I don’t hate the child. He has enough enemies among those whose embrace he enjoys.”

Doran sighed somewhat tiredly.

“He reminds me so much of Elia’s babies, sometimes when he laughs I can see Rhaenys in his smile.” Oberyn’s eyelashes were glittering with tears he didn’t even attempt to hide. “I know it’s the drops of the Targaryen blood in his veins, the very reason why he doesn’t burn but it pains me to look at him sometimes.”

Doran raised his leg on the nearby stool to ease his pain. Joint pain was more often during the night, but they didn’t shy from him even during the day. Oberyn recognize the pain on his brother’s face, and without any word, he got up and poured the strongest wine into a cup to ease his pain just for a little.

“What do maesters say?” He asked him not hiding his worry.

“What would they say? Their advice do not help me as much as they are trying to convince me.”

Once upon he had it all, but now as his body treacherously turned against him with a broken family it wasn’t easy to keep up with all the wishes he wanted for better tomorrow. He accepted into his home the poisonous seed of the families that killed his blood, knowing that Dorne would never accept sweet words of regret Jon Arryn might send tiring the army of ravens and despite his very nature he embraced them with a smile waiting for the day at which Dorne will rise and kill them all. And for that he needed to live, but not like this.

“I have been sending people to the Free Cities in hopes they have something to ease this…this.” His leg barely moved from the pain.

“Your mind still turns the wheels as you play the game. Do I wish you react more, get madder for I do, brother, but as you said once what is one dead Lannister if we can destroy every person that carries it.”

“That day I will dance…” perhaps that was a silly promise to his younger brother.

Oberyn smiled, “…even if I have to carry you.”

“You’ll breathe lighter when they leave, even if it’s for a while.”

“There won’t be calm for me regardless of that,” he finished his wine signalizing Oberyn to pour some more. Prince Doran tossed to his brother a letter.

“Marvelous, the Daynes are coming. At least friends are this time coming into our home.” If there was a house that could understand the pain of Martells, that was the Dayne family. And for that alone, there was unquestionable loyalty coming from both sides.

“Lord Dayne wishes to present his son to me, and as much as I am joyful that there is new heir I would enjoy some time without any guests to please.” The Dornish prince felt like a spoiled child, but as he would never confess that to others he had no problem saying it to his brother.

“No need, I will gladly please them all,” Oberyn didn’t miss an opportunity for a lascivious tone.

“Don’t you have enough daughters?”

“Well, I need to ensure that your children do not grow up all alone. Do we know when can we expect them?”

Doran smiled feeling the drowsiness numbing the pain.

“Lord Dayne and his entire court will appear in a moon time. He named in his letter every person that will come with him including his child’s wet nurse and his stablemen.” Doran’s voice was slightly mocking, although still filled with respect.

“At least we can count on him on being predictable.”

“Yes, you should learn from him.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you write there is a somewhat hope that people will like it, and I have to thank everyone for their comments and kudos. That is the food that inspires my inspiration and is a reason why my guilty conscience works overtime when I don't write. 
> 
> I realized I messed up Renly’s age by aging him for three years. Since nobody is perfect, and some things in the plot do depend on him being slightly older I do hope you’ll be able to survive. On a plus note, he won’t be the only character whose age I messed up. :p
> 
> I hope you'll like this chapter and as usual I haven't got a clue when the next might be. Let's hope soon! 
> 
> UPDATE 12/05/2018: Currently I am on the 17th page of the new chapter with only two characters to write. With one I could live, but then you would miss out on the beginning and that is not fun :)


	5. V. Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One act of mercy can change a life, but two can change a world.
> 
> Something that Robert didn't plan when he spared Lyanna's child and Cersei didn't know when she didn't kill her king's beloved bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I know now why people say life gets in a way...it really does. I have no intention to abandon this story, however, I did warn you that it would be a slow update but not even I expected this slow. Sorry, people! 
> 
> This is more a transitional chapter, it says a lot and it shows certain cracks and problems that will return like a boomerang to haunt them all. 
> 
> I would also like to say one thing that I have noticed recently on the Archive and that is shameless copying and not giving credit. Just don't do it! Just because they write ff, that doesn't make them any less of writers. 
> 
> I don't own this, nor I ever will since George R.R. Martin does. 
> 
> From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for reading the story, commenting and giving kudos. You mean a world to me!

V. Chapter

No matter how many months have passed, the Targeryen family was the very soul of Dragonstone. Every carved wall or even uneven floor in the main chamber showed how much of the fallen dynasty was integrated with the castle. He had removed the flags and paintings glorying his cousins, but he couldn’t remove the castle itself. So each morning he would wake up to a grim castle, desolated and harsh from any signs of nature and warmth constantly reminded just how much he doesn’t belong there. The small folk looked at him like he was their enemy; perhaps they didn’t speak out loud how much they missed the Targeryens out of fear of losing their lives but it was obvious in their approach towards him and his men.

While the small folk lowered their head and hoped for the fall of his family and restitution of dynasty whose blood some of them bastardy shared; the nobles didn’t hide nor in their action or their words just how much they hated him. And for that alone he hated Robert. With so many names day they both had on them, and his brother didn’t fail to show him just how much he didn’t like him. Robert perhaps didn’t have the Lannister cruelty but he was still selfish enough to know where to kick him. Even the wedding which was upon him felt like another punishment.

Selya Flowers was far from the sweet and charming lady, but for better or worse that was even better. There wouldn’t be any love; perhaps only respect was needed to raise sons like he was raised.

Robert arrived a few days ago and already he was politely approached by his steward that there won’t be sufficient wine if consumption continues in such a manner. Without too many words Davos offered to handle the problem, and somehow he did. The barrels of wine were brought under the darkness of night, and the servants were advised to dilute the wine when his guests were drunk enough not to notice it.

Since his brother was all the time in cups, it was his wife who took upon herself to drive him insane. Her every word was coated with unusual sweetness, while smirks on her visage spoke of smugness unbecoming of anyone let alone a queen. Cersei used her pregnancy and Robert’s weakness for his bastard to bring back her brother to the court not being able to pretend in the same time that she wasn’t grabbing power for the Lannisters while intelligently weakening his brother.

He tried to warn Robert, but ever so useless since nobody could say anything to him. Stannis could say many things about his good-sister, but at least she knew where her loyalty lies. Robert was acting like it was his wedding, celebrating and grabbing maids to utter displeasure of most guests who dared not to say anything. Jon Arryn turned his head at the expense of polite behavior if that would mean that Robert would care for something else, not realizing that it won’t happened. Almost naïve attempts of his brother’s good-father to get him to govern were ridiculous. The Seven Kingdoms put up with Robert because only the Lannisters had the gold for war and since they had a reigning Queen and a future king in her womb there was no need to call for the arms.

Only hope Stannis had was that the child is born male and more capable of governing than its father.

“My Lord, a letter came by raven for the King’s Hand.” A young servant who was helping measter with ravens approached him rather skittishly carrying a letter in his hand almost like he was carrying a royal crown.

“Thank you,” he almost ripped it from the boy’s hands and turned away walking towards Lord Arryn’s room.

No matter how much he was disappointed with his brother’s Hand, he was aware that perhaps only he was able to keep the Kingdom in co-existing with the power-hungry fractions rising from every stone.

When Robert was sent to be fostered after their parent’s death, there was a hope among their nobles that Storm’s End lord would learn to control himself but he returned even more out of control starting a war for a girl that most likely run away. Even though he and many more like him thought that Lyanna Stark took one look at Robert’s character and decided to take her chance with prince Rheager, without one word of complaint he rose their army upon the call and gained nothing for it. As he was about the knock on the door of room prepared especially to be Hand’s working room, the door opened in front of him and there was lady Lysa with her eyes red looking almost raging. Her fists were clenched and she had difficulty breathing.

“Lysa, I will not give your childhood…” “Lord Stannis, I believe you are searching for my Lord husband.” She cut her husband from speaking too much.

“Do excuse me, my lords.” Paleness on Arryn’s face like the stench of wine spilled on the floor spoke about the uncomfortable domestic scene he luckily managed to miss.

“I wish you many sons and a kind wife,” Stannis felt uneasy. What happened between a lord and his lady wife shouldn’t be anyone’s business, but apparently when he raised his eyebrows as a comment that gave the Hand a reason to continue.

“She wishes that I aid her childhood friend.” He showed Stannis a chair only to sit across him like Stannis wasn’t the Dragonstone’s lord. “To point him as a customs official in Gulltown, however, I am not sure since now he is a brothel owner.” Stannis felt disgusted.

“Your lady wife wants you, my Lord, to hire a brothel owner?” Arryn smiled somewhat sad showing his rotten teeth. The years weren’t kind to him.

“He is a brother to her, and don’t we do anything for our brothers?” He grabbed a sweet from the bowl offering its content subtly to Stannis who waved his refusal.

“At least Robert isn’t a brothel owner.”

“There is truth in your words, my lord since he only finances their existence.”

Stannis didn’t see why Arryn gave himself a right to be snarky when Robert’s mistakes were his shortages as well. “With Lannister’s gold making the crown even more in debt to them. But I am not here to discuss Robert. My lord, the letter came for you.” He put the letter on the table watching as Arryn took it and opened it. The Hand’s deep sighing spoke enough.

“Dorne accepts our proposal and informs us that the child and the Kingslayer are on their way towards the King’s Landing. They expect their return as they shall be prominent guests on the celebration in the honor of the historical event that brokered the peace between Dorne and Iron Throne - the marriage of their prince Maron and princess Daenerys.”

“This is a pure provocation,” the king’s younger brother gasped at the Dorne’s insolence.

“Suddenly they are celebrating the Targeryens and their blood connection with them. They are calling for the war.” Jon Arryn stood wearily looking him under pitifully under the bushy eyebrows,

“That blood connection Baratheons have with Targeryens is the very reason your brother wears the crown. Robert’s rule because of it has legitimacy.”

“He wears the crown because Aerys was mad….” The Hand interrupted him, “….and nobody raised their swords because he enjoyed burning people even though we all knew that; they were raised after the Stark daughter was kidnapped by the prince and her family demanded her return only to burn. The lords accepted Robert because your grandmother was a Targeryen, and that brought Targeryen loyalists to the table. For it wasn’t only his army marching, it was mine and Ned’s. And we all know who lost the most.” He cut him off from commenting.

“Dorne will never forget their dead and if they push we will do nothing for that is what will truly pained them. If Robert raises arms, the Kingdom will bleed and we simply cannot allow that.” Stannis wasn’t hungry for the war. He didn’t find cheap pleasure in killing, and he couldn’t comprehend why they are allowing the Dornish to push them around. It was treason and that should be punished. The law was clear on that.

“And a member of Kingsguard, a brother to the Baratheon Queen and my brother’s child who possess the talent of Targaryens shall sit and smile as the Dorne mocks my King’s rule?”

“Yes, and it will be done with grace.”

“My brother will never agree.” Almost wolfishly Arryn tossed a sweet in his mouth and smiled like the battle was already won in his mind.

 

He felt nothing. His face was slapped with winds of the Storm’s End as he looked at his parents’ boat crushed remains he knew there were no Gods and no Septon could convince him otherwise.

Now as he was standing in the sept, waiting to put his cloak on his future wife and instead of feeling anguish or fear he felt nothing. He would complete his duty, but beyond that, he couldn’t imagine that marriage as anything else. In the front row sat his brother barely functioning smiling to every pretty face, grabbing whatever lady he could ignoring the poison seeping from his wife who put her hands on her bulging stomach like she was stopping their child from seeing such a mess.

As all rose to the sight of lady Selyse dressed in an opal-colored wedding dress wearing proudly her family’s wedding cloak, and that was the first moment in which Stannis truly realized that his life is about to change.

She was shorter than him and more plain than breathtaking, and his brother’s nasty comments told him that he and his lady do not present the picture of beauty and desire. At least they will do honorable their duty.

As the local Septon, who never failed to burden him with his problems, recited the prayers Stannis forgot almost deliberately his lady wife to be was escorted by her older brother who didn’t fail to look at his future good-brother like he was unworthy. After she uncomfortably walked in silence stared upon by their guests to stand next to him, her brother removed her maiden cloak so that the new cloak could take its place.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” He felt something screeching in his throat and lasting heaviness on his stomach as the both repeated the words of the ceremony connecting until the first of them die. She was somewhat faster finishing hers “and take you for my lord and husband” than he did his part of the ceremony like he would suddenly change his mind.

Their hands were so gently bounded with the embroidered ribbon that Stannis couldn’t help but feel somewhat panic. The Septon looked proud, perhaps even more than Robert who started to clap joyfully and laughing so loud that Septon had to slightly cough to return all the attention to himself. “By the blessing of the Seven, I declare you husband and wife. From this day you are one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Later, he could come to realize that he didn’t remember the path from the sept to the feast. The hall was filled with well-dressed nobles, and his brother was the very center of the attention just like he liked. The noble families of Dragonstone, who supported the Targeryens, couldn’t hide disdain on their faces. They sat close to each other, raised their glasses and gulp almost rudely for the newlyweds’ health and prosper life and cursed every moment they had to be there. And yet even as they smelled on possible treason, they were more polite than their very king.

“Raise your glasses. Somebody married Stannis.” Robert laughed not understanding that people laughed only to please him. His own mind would never accept that kings were always accepted even when their behavior is not. “I do hope, my lord husband, that we shall have a happy life.” Stannis turned to his wife almost surprised that she addressed him, but as they will spend their lives together perhaps some communication would be good. He doubted that he would ever love her, but peaceful life would be beneficial.

Even if her family was loyal first to the Lannisters, which was one of the reasons the queen so strongly supported the marriage, he didn’t have any inclination for the suffering in his marriage as he witnessed in his brother’s.

“I hope for that, as well.” The nervous feeling in his stomach grew stronger as the moment of bedding was approaching. He ensured that his wife is protected from the unsavory lords who enjoyed the tradition little bit too much, and when he saw that his brother disappeared he was about to breathe as light as he could in this situation. Stannis could only hope that Robert was asleep somewhere. His behavior was more than appealing and while one very small part of him felt being unjust, there was little to non-option to think that Robert would behave in presence of women and wine. The heaviness in his stomach grew with passing moments as the crowd looked at him and his wife almost hungry for what will happen. He searched the room for Davos almost nervously even though his face would never show it.

“It’s bedding time,” pimply lord barely known to Stannis screeched causing a ruckus among his guests. Women looked at him hungrily ignoring his malcontent, while men commented joyfully ignoring the polite behavior.

“Lords and ladies, may we raise our glasses in honor of Lord Stannis and his wife and wish them a home filled with healthy sons and daughters.” At that moment Stannis was happy that there was at least one person with common sense.

Arryn was perhaps too honorable to put up with nonsense like that in his presence and somehow his words calmed down the crowd. The unhappy groom raised his hand to his lady wife inviting her to join him. She took it looking scared and Stannis didn’t miss worried expression on faces of her family. Davos appeared next to him almost like a ghost surrounding them with their men. The message to all was clear there will not be bedding as they are used to.

“Forgive me but I considered that this might be easier for you.” Selysa was still worried, but the fear was no longer visible on her face. He couldn’t help but think that she looked nicer without it. As the candlelight shinned upon them as they approached their room, the sounds echoed like somebody was already enjoying themselves. Stannis tried to ignore it, but a sound of flesh being pressed for pleasure was too loud for that. Rage pulsated as he swore to himself that whoever it is that they will pay. As they approached the master room it was more than obvious that they were doing it in their room.

“I will flog them,” Stannis promised. He barged into the room with Seylse behind him only to see his brother’s naked behind as he was pounding into a woman.

“Robert! How could you?” Robert turned with a smile on his face without any shame almost joyfully looking at his brother’s embarrassment and his sister-in-law who were hiding behind Stannis and openly crying as she realized what was happening.

“I’m sorry, Selyse” the woman under Robert screeched embarrassed trying to push the king from herself to which Robert reacted with even louder laughter.

“You whore, you dared besmirch my wedding bed.” It was obvious that his wife knew very well who Robert’s playtime was as she continued to wallow even stronger choking upon her tears. Stannis couldn’t believe his eyes. He pushed his wife towards the door feeling absolutely humiliated and disgusted. The sounds of them echoed as loud as they were there. Stannis pushed himself against the wall, breathing heavily not knowing what to do. He was somewhat aware that his wife was crying into her hands and he didn’t know what to say. Robert bad as he was was his king.

“Who is she?”

“My cousin. She was jealous that she wasn’t marrying first, but to curse my marriage like this….” Stannis wasn’t too convinced of that.

Robert saw a pretty face, and rarely a pretty face dared to say no to the king.

He didn’t know just how much they were there standing. His marriage started with an insult which spoke poisonous volume just how much Robert didn’t care. Sadly, but this wasn’t done to him because his brother hated him just that much, it was done because Robert saw an opportunity and the first bed he could find was that one. He simply didn’t care enough to do it to give an insult. Robert was barely able to walk as he was leaving the room still pressed with his wife’s cousin who now was being shy like they didn’t know what they were doing.

“The room is yours, brother”, Robert laughed loudly as Stannis caught Seylse by the hand and lead her into an already soiled room as she was crying their disgrace.

* * *

 

“You were most kind, Lord Varys.” Her voice was perhaps strained but honesty was fiercely shinning. The Master of spies gently lowered his head in gratitude.

“You are the one, dear lady Katryna, who shown utter kindness and grace.” He turned to the small girl who was standing slightly in the shadows of the night and took a child masked in heavy blankets only to hand it to the lady Katryna.

“Thank you for ensuring my child’s return.” Deep scare across the nose and left cheek spoke of a story more than her rich clothes and gentlewoman’s manner ever could. “Did my poor sister suffer in her last hours?”

“Gravely and horrendously, lady Katryna. The crown’s torturers do a good job. The royal couple personally ensured that. To my surprise, especially the queen insisted upon some rather cruel methods.” A slight smile appeared.

“The Lannisters do pay their debts.”

“That they do.” She was pleased. ”

Thank you again for Ania deserved nothing more than that.” With those words as a goodbye, she took her child and left leaving Varys standing with a girl.

“You do not understand. Do you, Heala?” Noticing little bit of confusion on her face.

“The nobles aren’t right, but kinslaying isn’t right. Even the Gods say so.”

“It is really a kinslaying if you didn’t raise a weapon that struck your kin…lady Katrina did what I asked her and what happened to her sister is her sister’s undoing.” “..but she knew..” His little bird was still stuck on the wrong principle like so many were. In the end only some death matter, others serve their cause.

“Ania gave Katryna the scar upon learning the king put a babe in her and after the birth, she discarded her nephew to die. So you see, they are always guilty of something.” As Varys looked Katryna walking away holding the dark-haired child, he knew that soon he would be called upon to handle yet another King’s bastard.

* * *

She could barely walk, the heat was getting to her and she couldn’t be happier. They were returning home any day now. Somehow, what she was feeling was similar to what Robert was feeling. She wasn’t willing to lie to herself that Robert’s good mood was regarding the soon birth of his child, but ever since they received a raven that the ship was on his way there was certain joy felt in the King’s Landing. He still drank and embarrassed the crown, but even the small folk could feel the difference. And she was happy. The pregnancy was going as it should, Jaime was returning and so was Jon. As she held her stomach while sitting on the balcony watching over the garden she could almost taste the joy.

“What a lovely image you are! You didn’t look like that previous time,” if only Robert could leave more. He was drunk, but by the poison sipping from his lips today was angry and mean Robert.

“It was our child that died, or have you forgotten that?” The stench of sweat and wine got stronger as he took one step closer.

“I don’t enjoy you, nor your power-hungry grabby little hands.” He tossed himself on the chair next to her. As the sun shined on his face while he closed his eyes for a mere moment, Cersei looked at him and felt nothing. The maidens still looked at him with adoration since he was a good looking and a king while ignoring the widening of his body and drunken shine upon his face. But for Cersei, he made her sick and she barely found him a man, but at this moment she didn’t even care that he was alive. One day, she knew, he would die and she would live to rule. “

At least there is no lie..oh, she lied…”

Did he dared complained to his wife the queen about some whore? She would gladly dance on his grave.

“Whores lie.” He snickered like he knew a joke. “So does the queens. She outplayed us all….” he shook his head like he would get sober and got closer to her enough that she could almost taste the wine,” but I won.”

“I love him, you know. I could never imagine I could ever love anybody that much.” Cersei didn’t have a clue what was he saying. He barely ever made sense, but now even less.

”I know you played me. You used him to return the Kingslayer, but now I don’t care that much for your little game.” He was talking about Jon.

‘Was Robert talking about Jon’s mother?’, she wondered.

Her spies were not useful in learning anything. The mystery who was the boy’s mother wasn’t only of interest to her as others sought to learn the truth behind the boy’s origins. She held the boy sufficient times in her hands to know that his mother had to be a beauty, a type of beauty that comes only from noble blood so she dismissed stories about his mother being a servant or a whore. The child’s beautiful face spoke a tale, one Robert might not like. As she had learned and memorized in her mind, with almost warm feeling, every detail of late Prince Rheager’s face when she was young maiden promised to be his queen, Cersei would acknowledge sometimes that young Jon didn’t inherit only the gift of unburning from his Targaryen ancestors. The coloring perhaps wasn’t theirs, but in his face their blood was strong.

“Who was she?” Perhaps she was naïve enough to think that he would slip, but Robert just laughed at her.

“Grow the child in you because you will never know. I would rather squeeze the life out of you.”

“I am raising your bastard with all the privilege my child would deserve. I deserve to know!” Robert barely got up from the chair, ignoring her like she was nothing.

“I will kill him, Lannisters pay their debts,” she vowed once again.

Cersei knew Robert didn’t love Jon’s mother since he was still painfully obsessed with Lyanna Stark, but what the force was that made him take the child and raise him in front of her very nose was something she wanted to know. Kevan believed that perhaps the boy’s likeness to Starks made Robert take the child substituting for the child he would never have with that damn Northern woman. Cersei disagreed with him since Robert didn’t put up with children that looked like him, and he truly loved himself.

Perhaps she was more than chilled with Kevan ever since he attempted to take away her control over Jon. She didn’t even want to see how that would work out, and luckily the very idea that his namesake spends his childhood with Tywin Lannister terrified lord Arryn enough to play on everything that might work. Even her uncle knew how to recognize the losing battle, even though her father never will. His silence didn’t mean giving up; it just meant he would get what he wanted.

 

When the archers send the signal that the ship was getting close, Robert was so impatient that he gladly ignored his royal duties and organized a feast on the docks while waiting for his boy. A long time hasn’t passed, and he was almost counting when he will have an opportunity to hold his child in his arms. He couldn’t wait to see how big he got. Cersei with her nose held high was sitting in a special chair holding her stomach for the world to see her victory. Usually, that would annoy him, but not even his wife was able to make him feel bad. The large boat which was holding Jon and cursed Kingslayer was gliding over water as the sun was shining upon the white sails, almost blinding those who dared to look upon it.

“They are close,” he was almost giddy as one can be.

“It shall be a real pleasure hearing a child’s laugh at the King’s Landing,” his Hand said almost sad causing Robert to flinch just a little. For all the prayers to the Gods, Jon Arryn’s young wife couldn’t stop losing children…Perhaps it was an old seed, Robert thought while looking in secretly at the man who raised him.

His Hand was many things, but youth was meant for children and nobody blamed his wife for not being able to provide after all since his others wives didn’t have too much luck. In those silent moments when he wasn’t selfish, he wished that Lysa Tully’s womb quickens just so that his good father finally gets an opportunity to be a father to his blood. He gulped on wine and started to laugh as the drops of red liquid fell on his white shirt:

“With little Jon here, everything will be better.” Even the witch of his wife was happier as they are coming. She would say that her priority was her brother, but he wasn’t the one that prepared Jon’s room with almost hawk-like attention. Of course, most of her attention was upon the child she was about to birth but she never forgot about Jon no matter how much he didn’t like that.

“He will need to leave the Landing as soon as the queen births. The Dorne mustn’t be offended, especially with Greyjoys breathing down our neck. We do not have enough energy for several wars at the same time.” Arryn was too concerned about what might happen and what will. Robert still chucked when his Hand had learned what he did on Stannis’ wedding night and he was so mad he threatened to leave him for his desecration of the marriage bed. But after two cups of wine, not even Arryn would do that to the Seven Kingdoms. In the end, Robert was the one that convinced him that Stannis would simply get over it. It was Cersei that wouldn’t, especially after learning that the girl was carrying his child.

“Do you think that he’s bigger?” His Hand smiled to his joy. “Children grow, especially this small.”

“His mother was small.” Robert froze himself. No matter just how much Jon Arryn wanted to learn the mother’s identity that seemed to be one secret king wasn’t willing to say not even when he was deep in the cups. Arryn looked at bored queen who enjoyed the attention of her ladies, chosen as he was able recognized as those who didn’t share king’s bed and more importantly the ones that were personally loyal to her. Like her, he also wanted to learn. Perhaps out of misguided loyalty to his good-child Arryn tried to look after King’s bastard children the best he could.

“Perhaps he inherited your height among other things,” he consoled him while deliberately not saying anything that might drove his King into a rage and remind him that his Targaryen blood was one of them. Robert, if anything, was quite predictable.

“Perhaps. Now he is big enough to talk, and soon I will take him everywhere.” The gleam in his eyes was enough for Jon Arryn to realize that Robert was lost yet again in his thoughts.

“After lady Ania it would be good to ensure the boy’s safety.” Robert shook upon the miserable memory of a woman he slept with and who attempted to kill his child. “I think after her death that nobody would dare to lay a hand on Jon.” The bards sang a tale of a torture she lived through until he decided to cut off her head publically. The small folk and the nobles were out of words when it was Robert who came out and cut off her head. The message was sent. The Lannisters has their The Rains of Castamere, and Robert had his The Sorrow of Lady’s Theft.

“Perhaps not, but the queen will soon birth and the boy’s luck might change soon,” Arryn almost whispered. But Robert didn’t listen to him. His attention was solely on approaching galley. Its long, slender hull gleamed across the harbor as it slowed down with its men preparing for the docking. From his position, Robert could see the Kingslayer holding in his arms a boy, his boy.

“Look at him. He’s so big”, his eyes got teary. And when he practically ripped the boy from the Kingslayers hands, Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm was finally happy. Arryn wasn’t blind to see how unhappy was Jaime Lannister with Robert’s behavior. Perhaps Twyin’s son enjoyed more being with the child away from the Landing than anyone would want that.

“Brother!” The king wasn’t the only one that was happy. The King’s Hand saw as she attempted to rise only to be told by her twin brother that he would come to her. The hug perhaps lasted slightly longer, but Cersei Lannister would be poisonous even when she was happy. “Will the king stop chocking the child? Perhaps, dear brother, you should have continued to protect him.” Robert was still hugging Jon looking at him like he was the treasure and the only reason for joy. The boy screamed joyfully, and Arryn wasn’t blind to notice how he searched with his eyes the queen.

“Hush, a woman, let me be happy! My boy is back!” Robert put him down and gave him his hand to hold, but the boy just took off and stopped in front of the Queen.

“I’m sorry you are not my mother, I’m sorry.” He turned towards Jaime who looked more shocked than any of them.

“Tell her, uncle!” The Kingslayer kneeled, put his hands on his shoulders and whispered a few words to the boy. “It’s all right, sweet boy.” The King’s Hand never heard Cersei Lannister sounding so sweet, and the goose bumps on his skin felt a warning. Never trust lions when they smiled, he remembered what the Mad King used to say in jest to Tywin Lannister many years before the madness cracked his reason, as the queen smiled to the innocent boy and put him in her lap to introduce him to his brother growing in her womb. 

* * *

 

„Faster, faster! You need to be faster!“ Connington screeched at the little blue-haired boy.

“You will never win that slow.” The former King’s Hand was sitting on the wall nearby the port, and almost miserable watched as the small boy who barely holding a wooden sword was unable to match with his teacher’s movements.

“You will never save your brother that slow.” The news about his namesake came more often than he would ever think and when they heard of banishment to the Dorne he played for a while with an idea to go there and kidnap the boy but that was before he had learned that the Usurper send the Kingslayer to protect him. For now, he had his ears opened waiting for the first opportunity. Rodrick promised him information, but not even the Northman succeeded in getting into Robert’s inner circle. Until then, Connington trained Aegon bringing him the best teachers from their side of the sea he was able to afford willing to shape the future king.

“My lord, I need you to leave.” Light-haired sword master from Essos didn’t hide how much dislike he had for his employer. It was obvious from the boy’s Valeryn features that the man wasn’t his father, but the pressure he was putting on the child was very similar in its madness like the one he already saw with so many fathers. That was the only thing he detested in his way of life; fathers who barely ever took a sword in their pampered hands and yet would scream at their sons like they would be any different. Fools each and every! Lord Griff as he liked to pretend to be had some battles under his fingers but blindness with which he handled the boy was tickling his fingers. He lost already a job for raising his sword onto his employer and he wasn’t willing to do it again.

“A skill like that needs to be honed like a sword being made from scratch but pushed too soon into the water and it will be damaged.” If the Gods were fair, Rheager’ son would learn from the best in the world on grounds of the Red Keep surrounded with Kingsguard, perhaps even Arthur Dayne would teach him. He measured the thin man with the sword not pleased how pissed he was at him like he wasn’t the one paying him.

“I want the boy to learn.” He was firm. The swordmaster stood still as he was lowering his sword without losing the firm grip on the handle.

“And he shall learn,” he assured him like the world was hanging on a tread.

“Patience isn’t only meant for children learning, my Lord.”

“He is right, lord Griffin!” Out of all people, he might have encountered in this damned land he never thought it would be lady Ashara Dayne, risen from the dead just to torture him. He never doubted her love for the boy as she looked at him with unconditional warmth, but he detested her natural state of being against him. He remembered her kindly from the Harrenhal where he even danced with her, but now she was a septa Lemore whose sole purpose was to Aegon, shaping him how she saw the future king.

“You are not a solder, septa,” warning was clear as was deliberate ignoring to turn towards her.

“And yet somehow, you forget that this is not the first time I am witnessing a potentially great swordsman. The last one was quite legendary, and he found enough humility to listen to me,” there was a subtle tease in her voice almost as much as was condemnation.

“I know how he died.” He could hear an upset gasp. He wasn’t there to play or reminisced about past times. If Rheager was alive he would surely die again from learning how his sons lived. One forced in poverty and scrapes from the table, and other a plaything to his killer forced to call him a father.

“At least he died saving the son of his Lord, not running away and getting lucky by accident.” He focused on watching the child who was getting more and more annoyed as his favorite game turned into a lesson. The heat from the sun was burning his neck, as the light breeze of distant sea spoke a tale of death.

"You are too obsessed with your namesake.” He continued to ignore her. “Rodrick isn’t even close to the boy….”

“He will be, he just needs time. Gods be blessed, the Usurper did one good thing in sending the boy to the Dorne. He will be safer there.”

“He will not welcome his brother. It would be easier to kill him then create possible opponent to Griff. The Lords will see a boy they know who confirmed his Targaryen blood with fire and they will see another boy whose identity depends on trusting you, and why should they trust you?” Connington turned shocked not believing her words.

“I was his best friend.”

“And yet you didn’t know about Lyanna being pregnant. Do we even know if the boy is trueborn?”

“The Lords can say many things about me, but I knew him enough to know that he would never lay with a whore…”

“She was a Lady, and they have nothing against the warmth of the flesh especially when they are loved by a beautiful prince.”

“You would know, after all, it took just a few beautiful moments for you to forget and all of that for a Northman,” poison in his words matched hers. She had a sigh, not in anger, perhaps more out of tiredness.

“I enjoyed it quite, and warm memories will live in me until I die. But I at least have memories of something that happened, not a fantasy of something that never did or did you think that nobody would ever learn for your affection.”

“Mind your tongue, septa! I will not kill Rheager’ son, regardless of your words.”

“He cannot be saved from the poison that is being sipped every day into his ears! You are saving him if you kill him.” Connington looked at her with disgust like she enjoyed saying it, but unlike him, she was thinking the long picture. If Connington wasn’t willing to do what was needed, Ashara had no doubt that Elia’s brothers would do.

* * *

As he looked at a man who was old when Ned was a child, he couldn’t feel anything but utter respect. Ned himself would take more time to get better after being wounded, but who would dare say that to a Mormont.

“You are my Lord, and I believe that it is time that you know my plans. After my son brings a bride to a home, I have every intention to leave my home and take the vow for the Night’s Watch.

“I am losing a great Lord, but the Wall is gaining a great solder. Perhaps your honorable action will inspire others for the similar act. Once ago that was a place where a man could redeem his honor.” Ned could only hope.

The Wall has become a punishment, and sometimes Ned felt that recent Starks had failed it. This was the time of peace, time to heal and perhaps it was the time that Starks turn once again towards the Wall.

* * *

“Even Mad King waited in front of his Queen’s chamber when she was giving birth…” Blackfish had no wife no family other than the one his brother and lord had but King Robert’s behavior was despicable. The moment the queen’s maid announced to the King that she was in labour, the might King runway to the hunt like he was hunted by the demons. He even attempted to take with him his Hand, but Lysa’s husband didn’t fail to mention that somebody needs to remain in the King’s Landing.

Robert’s answer even now hours late still rang in Blackfish’s ears. “Do not worry, Lord Arryn. Cersei would pull out that child and sit on the throne.”

The hate between the queen and king was obvious to all, and more than one noble whispered how the only thing that was stopping Robert from discarding his queen was her father’s gold.

Blackfish saw with his own eyes as the whores were passing through the Red Keep following Robert’s personal squire and Cersei’s cousin. Nobles pouted lips and looking in disgust, but they still preferred a king that would fuck the whores instead of burning people.

“My husband loves the king,” Lysa could speak calmly but she didn’t even attempt to hide how much she didn’t like what she was seeing. Her poisonous comments were getting even to him. He didn’t know where her husband made his mistakes, but his brother’s younger daughter was getting angrier. Perhaps the life in the King’s Landing didn’t soothe her that much as they wanted.

“The boy will be represented soon in the court, I expect.”

“Yes,” her response was short as she took a long angry look towards his left side. Blackfish turned and surprisingly saw the King’s brother and a bastard. Unlike his nephew, the Master of ships had no smile on his face, but slight pleasantness showed just how much he liked the boy.

“He makes me sick. An insult to Gods and King just parades him.” Ser Bryden Tully never claimed to understand ladies, but he could understand Lysa’s view on the matter.

There is nothing a noble lady fear more than a bastard in her home. Their septas spoke the tales of bastards ready to kill their true-born brother and they weren’t lying, nonetheless, he couldn’t imagine Hoster’s good-son to commit adultery and bring a bastard into Lysa’s home. “….and Catelyn should demand from Ned that the King get rid of the bastard. He’s an insult to our House.”

Looking at the boy he could see the likeness to Brandon and Eddard Stark. The coloring was the same as the stillness and seriousness reeked of Stark blood. If he hadn’t met the Warden of the North and known from the depth of his stomach just how honorable the man is, he would suspect that the boy was his.

“The boy cannot burn, and I highly doubt that Ned had relations with queen Rhella.” You always had to be slightly more gentle with Lysa, he repeated to himself every day. She was his niece and he watched her grow, however loving her wasn’t always easy. Blind to her own mistakes, only seeing herself and quite able to blame others for perceived injustice; he wanted to tell her to stop talking about the King’s bastard because her poison came from jealousy not some misguided loyalty towards her house. Bryden Tully was maybe a fool, but he also knew quite well that Lysa wanted nothing more than to learn that the bastard is Ned’s just to harm her sister and her marriage.

“There are others with Valyrian blood….”

“And there are others who have dark hair and grey eyes and this is not the place for such conversation.” Hushing her up was getting more and more difficult, and sometimes Blackfish would feel sorry for Lord Arryn. No wonder his brother decided to send him instead of going by himself. One could only hope that perhaps Lysa will calm down once when a child quickens in her womb.

The Queen’s brother Ser Jaime didn’t hide how nervous he is, he even attempted to enter the birthing room to help her but he was sent out by the queen to calm down the screaming King’s bastard. Lord Arryn was nervous. There was no doubt that the future depends on the child the queen was birthing. If it was a boy, more than one lord will start breathing lighter than they had in years. There would be time for daughters after the heir is born.

“Lord Bryden, it a pleasure to have you here. I have no doubt my wife is pleased to have her family close by. ” Ever the politician, Blackfish thought as he took the King’s Hand’s hand and shook it. Lysa was not pleased. He doubted she would be ever pleased or happy again. The servants were bringing wines and food like it was yet another celebration, and not waiting for the birth of King’s first child.

“War is easier than this.”

“It’s much cleaner.” Arryn slightly showed his teeth. Blackfish just like most men preferred war than this especially since he saw no point in being there since not even the child’s father is. Blackfish never saw happier man than lord Arryn when it was announced that the queen gave birth to a boy. One would think it was his child how happy one was.

Jaime Lannister didn’t wait for anyone’s permission; he just grabbed the bastard and barged into his sister’s birthing room. Perhaps it was different when one had a sister, he thought especially if your life was to defend her and her family.

“Is he my baby brother?” he could hear the King’s bastard talking.

Blackfish knew that the life of bastards wasn’t easy, but what little affection the Lannisters had towards the boy will surely melt now as they had the heir of their blood. He doubted the boy would survive his fifth nameday.

However, his conviction was confirmed when King Robert took young Joffery in his hands at his representation to the court as a royal heir and handed him back almost instantly to the queen without much of a glimpse or care. The child was screaming, and the king looked at him with barely hidden disgust. And by looking at the queen, she did not miss that.

The court instead of a joyful moment witnessed yet another crack in a royal marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it is short, and perhaps not everything is what you wanted but c'est la vie. As usual, I am not from an English speaking area which means there will be mistakes and I will try to correct them when I see them. I am getting better, I think. :p 
> 
> I have no idea when the next chapter will be written, but I have a very firm idea what will be written and since you have all waited for so long I can promise a ship, a meeting (two very important meetings), several quite useless deaths and an animal. 
> 
> Thanks again for the support! It means a world for me!

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first GoT fanfic attempt. And since English is my second language, you can expect mistakes that will make you cringe. I can’t change that, but look on the bright side I can promise that I do want to improve and I’ll gladly correct mistakes. 
> 
> I watched show rather recently in a binge-watching way, cause that’s the best way to watch that time-sucking evil of GoT. :p I did read the books, but that was before TV show started causing “OMG, what the hell just happened?!” moments.
> 
> In advance: Some characters in the story will be out of character, and some won’t. You can bet that some events will change, and well some won't. 
> 
> Reminder: This is a fanfiction and I’m not earning money, just having little bit of fun. If you don’t like it, that’s perfectly normal. And if you do, thank you. Either way, that you for your time and have a lovely day! 


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